


slow-closing doors

by knlalla



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Awkwardness, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hide and Seek, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Movie Night, Self-Hatred, Social Anxiety, Strangers to Lovers, Superpowers, Swearing, Water Balloon Fights, just a bit, look there's a lot going on, mentions of drinking/alcohol, nothing serious or graphic just a little scary, well more like an ability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 44,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: SECRETS, DRAMA,BETRAYAL(okay no betrayal dw).Phil's agreed to be an RA for his floor this year at uni, and he's determined to be the best RA ever - after all, this is these students' first year, he wants them to have the best year ever.Loosely inspired byFreeze Tag by Caroline B Cooney.





	1. First Impressions

When PJ had first suggested I apply as an RA for our dorm this year, I may have sputtered out some very strange not-actually-curses - I mean, _me?_ Interacting with all the freshman, organizing events, being social and helping _others_ be social?

“I mean, that’s a joke, right?” I’d stared, wide-eyed, at a grinning PJ. _Surely_ he couldn’t be serious.

“No, no, look, it’ll help you get out of your shell!” I remember very distinctly that at that moment, my mouth had also gone wide to match my eyes. “Besides, you like to help people, right?” PJ must’ve seen something change in my expression - I _do_ love being able to help people, even if it’s only a little - and that had been the beginning of the end.

At least I’d dragged him down with me.

“Done moping, Phil?” Ah, the man himself. A hand claps my shoulder, and I turn toward the source of the offending voice.

“No,” I frown, “I’m still not sure this was a great idea.” I can’t escape the nerves that have been buzzing in my head for the past week, all through the RA training, all through the planning we’d done, all through the past hour of decorating the lounge and posting names on doors.

“It’ll be great and you know it,” PJ’s hand disappears, and I watch him straighten the nametag on the door across from ours - ‘Daniel’. I remember the kid had been extremely adamant about having his own room; he’d gotten super lucky that his roommate had decided to get an apartment last minute.

PJ disappears back into our room, door creaking shut behind him, and I frown before plopping down on one of the old sofas in the lounge. To await the new freshman. _What have I gotten myself into?_

I have _never_ been a social person, only going out of my way when I either force myself or someone else drags me somewhere - although I suppose both cases usually end with me exhausted, anxious, but ultimately glad I did whatever the thing was. _Peej is right, I’m sure this will turn out okay._

But my leg bounces anyway, because this isn’t just a couple hours at a party, it’s a _year-long commitment_ , and I have the potential to actually influence how these kids feel about their time at university. _No, I have the potential to make them_ love _being here._ My brows scrunch, and I feel a bit of my determination return. My own first year had been rocky, to say the least, but I can make this the best year of some of these kids’ lives if I just try _really really hard._

So, when the first person pushes open the door to our floor - a girl with blonde curls to her shoulders, looking every bit as bright and bubbly as I’m trying to be - I give her my most enthusiastic grin. _Here goes nothing._

\------------------------

When I collapse into my bed at the end of the evening, I feel exactly as awesome as I had hoped - exhausted, too, but thrilled.

Nearly everyone had smiled back when I introduced myself, they’d all found their rooms alright, and everyone seemed to bond over the fact that they were all in the same boat: new, a little scared, but ultimately excited for whatever adventure the year promised. Staring up at the bed springs under PJ’s mattress, I can’t help but feel like giggling. 

I stifle it into a really big grin, though, because it’s late and I think PJ’s already asleep. 

And of course, just like that, my mood shifts - no real reason, but anxiety kicks in. There had been one no-show, the Daniel guy, and I’m not sure how to handle it. _What if he hadn’t liked dealing with me via email, when he told us he needed the room to himself? And he just decided to drop out because of me?_

I know how stupid it sounds, but I’m suddenly worried, turning to curl in on myself in the tiny twin bed. _What if I’ve ruined his uni experience before he even arrived?_ That’s the complete opposite of my goal, and my stomach feels like a giant hole, filling with frustration and doubt - if I can’t even keep one person happy for a single day, how am I supposed to keep an entire floor of people happy for the whole year?

\-----------------------------

I must drift off at some point, because I wake up, so I had to be asleep to begin with. Clearly, I didn’t sleep _well_ , because my brain is moving very slowly - it takes a good three minutes for me to realize that there’s sunlight pouring into the room.

At which point, I sit up in a rush, bumping my head against the bar under PJ’s bunked bed. With one hand to the lump I’m sure is already forming, I reach for my phone with the other, desperately hoping I haven’t overslept. Today’s the most important day - the most important morning - of the entire freshman week: pancake day.

“Peej, wake up!” I practically shout, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed as I stare at the time - still ten til ten, so hopefully nobody’ll be waiting outside the cafeteria yet. It had taken a lot of persuading to get access to the kitchen of the nearest dining hall, but I consider it one of my finest achievements so far as an RA. 

If I can get there in time.

When I get zero response from PJ, I spin around, a fresh t-shirt halfway over my head. To find an empty top bunk. One arm still stretched in the air, I type out a quick text.

**Phil: __**_pls tell me u already at th cafe?????_

I frown at the necessary abbreviations, but toss my phone aside, slipping off my cosy sweatpants and swapping them for a pair of black jeans. A buzz calls my attention, and I glance briefly at the screen before checking my reflection in the mirror on my way out the door - hair messy but mostly straight, I can deal with that.

 **PJ:** _got you covered dude_

If I could exhale nerves, that’s what my sigh would be made of: all the anxiety that managed to build up last night, plus all that had built up in the past few minutes, collectively being pushed out into the air; my muscles are grateful that I’ve stopped being so tense.

Because the door locks behind me automatically, I’m already halfway down the hall before it closes - the click is enough to distract me from my surroundings for just a second, which is exactly how long it takes for someone to push open the door of the shared bathroom and walk directly into me.

For a moment, I’m completely frozen. Then a hand brushes my arm, and I take half a step back. _Oh,_ I frown _, someone doesn’t want to go to the pancake breakfast..._ somehow, that’s the most important thing on my mind. Until I realize I’m staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at the boy in front of me. Who’s completely naked except for a towel around his waist, and I realize that staring might be considered rude.

“Oh, I’m-”

“Sorry, I just-”

We both stop, then, waiting for the other, until he dips his head and gestures toward me with his free hand. The other has a vice grip on the towel at his hip.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you, I was in such a rush, and- wait, are you, I mean, do you live here?” My voice comes out thick with confusion - I had made a point to meet and memorize the names and faces of everyone from last night. _Wait…_

“Uh, yeah,” his cheeks - and chest, I notice against my will - are dusted pink, but his voice is brisk and defensive. I ask my eyes very very nicely to focus on his face and not his bare, damp shoulders and the sharp line of his collarbone.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to be rude,” _nobody ever gets my tones, I need to work on that. Be more obvious._ “I just didn’t recognize you, I’m Phil, the RA,” I stick out my hand, but he only stares at it, hard and cold, before looking back up to my face. “Anyway…” I clear my throat, dropping my hand. _Well, this is going swimmingly._

Instead of responding, he slides past me, leaving a very clear space between us. He even goes as far as to brush up against the wall to keep his distance. _Past me...wait, is he…?_

“Daniel?” I whirl around, pleased to find I must be right - his hand’s frozen on the doorknob to the room across from mine and PJ’s. 

“Dan,” it’s low and grumbly, then he’s pushing into the room and slamming the door behind him. Which must take some effort, as the doors have mechanisms that _prevent_ slamming.


	2. Pancakes and Whipped Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get off to the _best possible start ever_ , no, really!

I’m only fifteen minutes late to the pancake extravaganza, which is in full swing thanks to PJ and a few of the more outgoing freshmen.

“If you’re just going to bail on me, I may have to find a new best friend,” PJ nudges me, voice full of laughter, as we ‘supervise’ the controlled chaos: the whole kitchen is covered in a layer of flour, but things seem to have organized themselves into something resembling orderly, with a few of the freshmen mixing batter, a few at the stove, and a few setting up various toppings.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” I try for annoyed-angry-bear, but I doubt it comes out that way, with how PJ doubles over in laughter.

“I _tried_ , mate, you were dead to the world.” Someone across the kitchen yelps, and PJ rushes over, leaving me to watch the scene on my own - fortunately, nobody seems hurt, just surprised by a dropped egg, but now PJ’s grinning and chatting amicably. _Why can’t I be effortlessly social like that?_

“Hey, uh, Phil, right?” My eyebrows lift at my name, and I recognize one of the girls from yesterday - the same blonde who’d been the first to get started move in. And last to finish. She had a _lot_ of stuff.

“Yeah, Louise, what’s up?” Her face lights up, clearly pleased I remembered her, and I give myself an invisible pat on my back. Apparently, her invitation is all I need, because my own arms are soon covered in flour, along with my jeans (they will never recover, I’m sure), and I end up smiling and laughing quite a lot for a socially anxious person.

It’s only once the last of the freshmen has a plate in hand, piled high with pancakes and toppings, that I allow myself to relax - though I didn’t really even notice how tense I’d been. My muscles all feel loose and sore, even my cheeks and jaw just from smiling.

“Better get started on cleanup, Phil!” PJ’s sat with a group of freshmen at one of the long tables in the dining area, and I frown at him - which feels less painful than smiling right now. When he lifts a brow, tapping his fork to his wrist, I grumble and spin around to take in the enormous mess behind me. _I guess it’s only fair if he had to do all the setup._

It doesn’t _feel_ fair, though, when it’s nearly an hour later and I’ve yet to have any of the delicious pancakes my floor-mates have already enjoyed - I saved a bowl of batter in the fridge, telling myself I can only make some once I’ve cleaned everything else up. _Serves me right for being late._

But I’m down to the last dish, then it’s rinsed off and placed in the large and very scary industrial dishwasher that I really hadn’t been properly trained how to use, and I set about making my own breakfast. Or, rather, lunch at this point.

Everyone had left already, on to the campus tours that the student engagement group hosts, so I’m free until the afternoon - we have a bunch of activities planned throughout the week, and I’m exhausted just _thinking_ about them. Hell, it’s not even noon on the first day, and I’m ready to crawl back into bed.

So when a door opens behind me, I basically jump out of my skin. Then chuckle at myself.

“Thanks, Peej, but I’m actually already done, just making myself some pancakes,” I’m still facing the stove, but who else would it be? I assume PJ had escorted the students back to the dorm, or maybe straight to the student engagement office, and then come back to help with cleanup. 

But it’s dead silent behind me, so I peek over my shoulder. To find brown hair, like I expected, but curled and damp and hiding two deep brown eyes - _not_ the bright green attached to my best friend.

“Oh,” it’s the boy - Dan? - from this morning, the one I’d definitely run into after his shower, who is now much more clothed but certainly no less pretty. My cheeks flush red. “Uh, would you...like some?” I hold up the pan, full of pancake batter that looks about ready to be flipped.

His lips don’t move, but I watch the way his eyes narrow, flick between me and the door, and I can swear I see his muscles tense from all the way across the kitchen. In fact, he looks like he’d been about to turn around, to escape before he got caught, when I’d decided to look back. 

“You can say no,” I offer, voice a little quiet and trying not to sound hurt - because _of course_ this is the guy I’d made feel so uncomfortable once today already, I really don’t need to do it again. _Way to go, Phil, he probably hates uni already, and he’s not even had his first class yet._

This time, he makes a noise - well, sort of. His stomach makes a noise. I try not to giggle, but a smile pushes up to my face anyway. 

“I’ll just make a bunch, and you can have some if you’re...if you want,” I spin back around, still smiling down at the slightly-overdone pancake and hoping he’s not so embarrassed that he’ll just run away. 

A pancake later, the sound of a scraping chair hits my ears, and my chest feels light and bubbly. _Much like this particular pancake, time to flip._ Because Dan seems like a quiet person - and, admittedly, I’m a bit social-ed out - I don’t try to carry on the one-sided conversation. _Focus on not burning anything._ A few minutes later, I’m headed out into the dining area with two steaming plates and whatever toppings we had left.

Dan glances up at me the moment I come within view, eyes narrowing at me. Again. _Why is he so suspicious all the time?_ I do my best to think back, to try to decide if I’ve done anything that would make him stare at me that way. But nothing - well, aside from an awkward encounter - comes to mind, so I set a plate in front of him and make my way around to the other side of the table. 

By the time I’m settled, he’s already piled his stack with syrupy strawberries and whipped cream and is digging into his first bite. My pancakes get a load of nutella and an equally huge amount of whipped cream.

We’re entirely silent, which feels a little weird to me, but he looks content for once - he’s only ever had furrowed brows, squinty eyes, a frown, as far as I’ve seen - so I try not to push it. _‘Some of the freshman will be less comfortable at first - it’s your goal to encourage them to come out of their shells, but not to the point of discomfort.’_ A wise line from our training.

But curiosity overwhelms me after a minute, I can’t really help it - I just have lots of questions.

“So when did you move in?” He wasn’t at any of the floor events yesterday - which all took place _in_ the dorm, so it’d have been hard to miss him. _Did he move in at like, midnight or something?_

“Last night,” is the only response I get, around a mouthful of pancake and strawberry, then his eyes have dropped back to his plate. I get the perfect view of his brown curls, slowly turning fluffy as they dry. _Soft, definitely soft._ Then I focus on my own plate, digging in for another bite in the hopes it’ll somehow hide the blush I feel warming my cheeks.

I only bring myself to look up again when there’s a change to the sounds he’s making - apparently, he’s finished, and is pushing back in his chair.

“Wait!” He’s leaned forward a bit, about to stand, but he pauses mid-movement and fixes a hard gaze on me. It’s strange, such a cold look coming from such warm eyes. “You have, uhm…” I trail off, eyes going wide - there’s a spot of whipped cream on the corner of his mouth, and I point toward his face. 

His brows furrow as he frowns, then lift quickly when he realizes. And rubs a thumb across the _opposite_ side, completely missing the offending whipped cream. His eyes, which had dropped to the table to focus, lift back up to me and wait for a confirmation.

“No, no, it’s-” I break off to reach forward, hand extended toward the spot on his lip, and he stills so completely that I wonder if time has just frozen around me.

Or maybe it has to do with the contrast to how quickly he pulls away half a second later - like I’d just struck him with lightning - and sits back in his chair hard enough to make it rock back precariously before settling under him. His eyes have gone deer-in-headlights wide, lips parted, and I think I hear him suck in a breath before standing and abandoning the table in a rush.

He’s out the door before I’ve regained my senses enough to process what just happened. _Great, I’m doing such a fantastic job at this…_


	3. Worst RA Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very important game of capture the flag, and Dan insists on sitting out.

After a quick cleanup of the remaining few dishes, I find myself back in my room, left to ponder my imminent failure as an RA. 

“I mean, Peej, he obviously hates me, right?” There’s a sigh from the desk, where PJ’s sat staring at something on his laptop. He has headphones on. “Hey, Peej,” I raise my voice until he turns around, “I mean, what do you think?” With another exasperated noise, he removes one side of the headset and lifts a brow. “The new guy, Dan, he hates me?” 

Instead of a response, he just gives me an eye roll before turning back to his screen. I think he’s working on a new film, though classes haven’t even started yet - it’s basically impossible to have a real conversation when he’s in project mode.

I flop back on my bed with a sigh and creaking of bed springs; at least we have a game planned for this evening, I’ll have a chance to redeem myself. I hope.

\-----------------------

It had been an overall humid day, unusual for September, but the cool evening has left the field slick with dew - I actually almost slip just running out onto the grass, but manage to catch myself at the last second. _That would’ve been absolutely horrible! Oh god, imagine if I_ do _fall, like during the game, oh my god I’ll have grass all over my butt or a mud stain, everyone will laugh, I’ll have to pack up and move-_

“Alright, everyone, gather round!” PJ’s voice pulls me out of my minor freak out, and I plaster a bright grin on my face to match the one I can hear in his tone. _Right, focus, game - make it so fun that Dan- uh, and all the other freshmen, will have a blast!_

“Come on, we don’t bite!” I wave my arms, gesturing for them to huddle closer.

“Much!” PJ quips beside me - a joke I’d forced him to go over three times just to make sure we had the timing right - and it earns us a few chuckles. The freshmen move in a bit, and PJ must decide they’re close enough. “Okay, if you’ve never played capture the flag before...well, what are you doing at uni, mate?” He laughs heartily before continuing to explain the rules.

Fortunately, he seems to have it well in hand, because my attention has already drifted to the edge of the field, where a certain brown-haired, brown-eyed boy is staring down at his phone. He must have a weird sixth sense, as he glances up the second after I notice him, and our eyes lock for an uncomfortably long moment; then he’s back to his phone, a frown accenting a dimple in his cheek so deep I can see it from here.

“Make sense?” A chorus of general-agreement sounds brings me back to the situation in front of me. “Great, even-numbered rooms are on the red team, odd on the blue team, you have five minutes to strategize!” As soon as the words have left his mouth and the freshmen break into their groups, he whirls around to me. “Go on,” he waves a shooing hand at me, and I frown.

“‘Go on’ what?” But I sort of already know. PJ lifts a brow, eyes drifting to a spot behind me. The space I was staring only a minute ago.

“ _Go on_ ,” he emphasizes with a dip of his head, then he actually grabs me by the shoulders to turn me around and shove me in the direction of Dan.

I stumble forward a couple steps, then shoot a glare back at PJ before taking more careful, more regular strides toward the edge of the field; Dan’s sat down, now, on the sweater he’d been wearing - I assume to protect himself from the embarrassing wet stain that I’m sure will be gracing the seat of my jeans in a moment. But they’re black, so it shouldn’t be too noticeable; I just really want to sit beside him.

“Hey,” I lower myself to the grass gingerly, scrunching up my face in anticipation of a yucky wetness - when none immediately comes, I let my face relax into something I hope is inviting and pleasant.

He glances up, scanning me from head to toe before pausing on my eyes for just a moment. Then the soft chocolate brown is gone, returned to watch the screen.

“No interest in sport?” I try again. _I refuse to be a failure after just the first proper day_ , my inner RA recites dutifully. _I also refuse to just sit aside when he might be feeling lonely_ \- that’s my inner good person, I think, but there’s another tiny little inner Phil that doesn’t get a name: _I refuse to give up on the cutest enigma I’ve ever met,_ this one shouts, and I can feel warmth crawling up my cheeks.

That may also have to do with the fact that he’s completely ignored me, not even offering a look this time.

“Yeah, me either,” I chuckle, hoping to relieve some of the awkward tension. “So you’re from Wokingham, right?” _Oh god, is that weird? No, wait, he should know that I know. But is it still weird? What if he doesn’t_ remember _that I know that, and he thinks I’m some creepy stalker or something…_ “I mean, it was in your information,” I stutter out, because he’s still not talking.

I glance over at him, trying to gauge his reaction: he’s not moved, except his thumb to scroll through something on his phone, and is face is tugged down in that frown again. The dimple looks even more significant up close, or maybe it has to do with the darkening of the sky casting odd shadows.

“I’m actually from Rawtenstall, outside Manchester?” I try the other approach, talking a bit about myself in the hopes that he’ll open up. “I really missed my family when I moved here, though,” another tactic - relatability. One in three kids experience homesickness their first year at uni. “I get to visit quite a bit, which is nice, but it was hard at first.” Another glance over at him.

A glow of pride warms my chest: he’s actually looking at me, though I can’t really place the expression: his eyes are squinted a bit, brows tugged together and lips pursed - he doesn’t look _mad_ , exactly, or upset, but he certainly doesn’t look _happy_. _Oh no, have I struck a nerve? Maybe that was too sensitive to talk about, if he’s super homesick-_

My thoughts shut off when his hand leaves his phone, extending slowly toward me. 

“Hey, Phil!” We both startle, and his attention flies back to his screen before I can even begin to process what had been happening. PJ’s trotting over, a little out of breath but grinning down at me. “Looks like we have a winner already!” I glance behind him to find one of the teams - the red, it looks like - hoisting a makeshift ‘flag’ in the air triumphantly. I am sorely regretting volunteering one of my t-shirts for this endeavor.

“Oh, uh, that’s great! Should we round them up and head back, or…?” I glance around; there’s still some light left to see by, and we’d honestly expected things to take longer.

“Well, we have the field for another hour, may as well use it!” I smile back at him and nod, and he whirls around to the two teams. “Alright, best of three! Winning team gets to have lunch with Phil and I for a _whole week_!” A chorus of laughter follows - we’ll all be eating together, all week, as part of the freshman week anyway.

“Sure you don’t want to join?” I turn back to Dan, who doesn’t look as if he’s moved at all since PJ came over. 

The only acknowledgment I get that he’s heard me is a slight twist of his head, brown eyes barely glancing sideways at me before refocusing on whatever’s held his attention this whole time.

“What are you looking at?” I lean closer, not really trying to see what’s on the screen but just trying to let him know I’m interested. _Just talk! I promise I don’t bite._ This has him fully staring at me, eyes wide as he scoots a bit farther away. 

When I don’t make any move to get closer, or look at his screen again, he shoots me a wary glare before relaxing just slightly. I don’t miss the fact that he’s tilted his phone away, making it very obvious that he has no interest in discussing whatever it is. _Okay, no problem, other subjects to talk about..._

“So what are you thinking of study-”

“Oh my _god_ , do you _ever_ shut up?” My mouth is wide, eyes as well, when he snaps at me. Then I clamp my jaw shut, turning back toward the field in an attempt to figure out how to respond. I don’t see it when his fingers brush my arm - I barely even _notice_ it.

What I _do_ notice, though, is the effect: I can’t move. And not in the _‘wow, I’m finally connecting, how great!’_ way, or even the _‘a cute guy just touched me’_ way.

I _literally_ can’t move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm sorry for the cliffhanger! (sorta)


	4. Secrets are No Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So....that happens...........

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod_

It’s a never-ending chorus in my head, making my breathing shallow and my heart rate hummingbird-fast. _Okay, okay, I can breathe, my heart still works, oh my god, oh my god what’s happening?_

I’m frozen, staring in the general direction of the freshmen and their game, but unable to _do_ anything. I can’t turn my head, or move my eyes, or wiggle a finger or stand up or lean back or curl my toes or _anything_. 

I can’t even scream. I kind of want to scream.

“No, you won’t die,” I’d actually jump if I even _could_ , because I’ve almost entirely forgotten that he’s even here. Cause I can’t see him. At all. Cause I can’t move. _At all._ _How do I tell him to help me? How do I- wait. I...did he do this?_

“Yes, I did it,” I frown. Or I would, I _want_ to. My face stays in exactly the same position, with exactly the same expression. _Can he read my mind as well?_ “And I can’t read your mind, it’s just not the most uncommon question to get. Especially since I’m, y’know, literally the only person near you right now.”

He sounds so immensely _unbothered_ by this, his voice mostly monotonous. There might be a hint of sarcasm. I also realize, belatedly, that this is the most he’s ever said to me at once. _Maybe I should’ve just stayed quiet for a while and he’d have talked…_

“I’ll fix you when we leave,” he adds, and a note of finality floats in the air. I wish I could see his face, though - did he do this to be mean? Because I was annoying him? Just because he could? Nobody from the game even glances our way for longer than a second - it probably looks like we’re just sat next to each other in silence. 

I do my best to control my breathing and my heart rate - thank _god_ everything inside seems to be working normally. _But what if he just...leaves me here? He said he’d fix me, but what if he’s lying? Or what if he forgets?_ Suddenly, I can imagine a statue of me in this exact position a hundred years from now: _‘That guy who never moved from this field, nobody knows why’_. What a horrible epitaph.

Just as I’m really picturing my inevitable doom, a hand nudges my elbow and all my muscles go loose.

“Hey, Phil- uh, are you alright?” PJ’s run over, apparently, and he’s frowning down at me. I’ve fully flopped back onto my arms, eyes going twice as wide and lips parted. Every muscle in my body is screaming at me to turn toward Dan or maybe just jump up and run for my life, but PJ is just staring. I finally manage to blink. _Oh god, I couldn’t even blink ten seconds ago._

“I’m, uh,” I clear my throat, “I’m good, I’m fine,” I exhale around the shaky words, climbing to my feet slowly. Nothing freezes up, though, and PJ just squints at me before shrugging and gesturing toward the group.

“Red team won, come on, you have to at least congratulate them,” then he’s gone, and I take a slow step forward; again, nothing out of the ordinary, though fear has every limb trembling a bit. I dare a glance at Dan.

“Go on,” he gestures toward the group gathering at the middle of the field, looking...completely bored, somehow. As if that wasn’t the most terrifying moment of my entire life. As if he didn’t cause it.

Because I don’t know what else to do - could I even call the police? He could just freeze them too, surely - I take another step forward. And another. And I try not to look back, really I do.

But I can’t help it, so I allow myself just one quick peek.

Which was a mistake, because our eyes lock, and his expression - eyes wide but brows scrunched, bottom lip caught between his teeth - locks itself in my memory for the entire rest of the evening.

\----------------------------

 _Why did he look so terrified? Did he not realize what he’d just done to me? I’m the one who’s supposed to be scared!_ It’s the middle of the night, but I can’t sleep - I mean, I can’t really blame my brain, it’s trying pretty hard to sort out some very unusual stuff. 

I’m mostly laying still, but every few moments, I twitch a finger or scrunch my nose or wiggle my ears simply because I can. _What if it’s some kind of magic spell, and now he can turn it on and off whenever he wants?_ I have to keep checking, just to be sure.

Some time later - I’m not sure how long, but it’s still dark - I sit bolt upright, only remembering to duck my head at the last second. I have enough going on up there, I don’t need it to jumble it all around by smacking my forehead into a metal rod.

As quietly as I can manage, I slip from under my duvet and grope around in the dark for my glasses. _Didn’t I leave them...oh_ \- I push them across the desk and nearly onto the floor, catching them just before they fall. Then they’re on my face, and at least the pitch blackness is crystal clear now. The only thing I really need to see, though, is the light from the hallway coming in under the door.

Every movement is quiet and careful - slow turning of the doorknob, inching the door open just enough to slip through, waiting to catch the door just before it clicks shut so there’s almost no noise. _Perfect, PJ didn’t wake up._ I’m not sure if I’d be able to explain where I’m going. Or why.

My journey takes all of two seconds - really, I just turn around and I’m there, staring at the perfectly printed ‘ _Daniel’_ sign on the door across from ours. I take a deep, shaky breath, then knock twice. Softly, because I’d be the _worst RA ever_ if I woke up my entire floor.

“ _Dan?_ ” I sort of whisper to the crack in the side of the door, as if that’ll somehow allow my voice to travel only through the door and not anywhere else in the hall. But there’s no response after a moment, so I knock again. And wait. And knock again. And wait. And knock-

“ _What the ever-loving fuck do you want?_ ” The door’s pulled open from under my knuckles, and I step back with a startled gasp. Dan’s stood there, looking generally pissed off and frowning so much that I wonder if he’s accidentally frozen his face like that - _oh, there’s that dimple again_.

“I, uh, sorry, I just…” I trail off. _What did I want again?_ A thousand different things run through my mind, the tamest of which include running my hands through his mussed up curls, kissing that dimple, maybe just wrapping him in a hug. Making him smile.

“If you’re just going to stand out here stuttering, I’m going back to bed,” he steps back into the darkness behind him, and the door begins its slow closure. 

At the last second, I remember my _actual_ reason for waking him, and stick my arm out to stop the door. Which, frankly, isn’t that hard - it takes _ages_ to close on its own.

“Earlier!” I nearly shout, then wince as I glance down the hall - fortunately, nobody seems to have heard. Except Dan, whose face has reappeared at the door. His expression speaks of an eye roll waiting to happen. “Earlier,” I try again, quieter, “can you do it whenever you want?” His brows quirk up for an instant, then settle back into his customary frown.

“I mean, yeah?” Now everything pulls together, like he’s not really sure why I’d ask _that_. To be fair, I can’t really remember why I’d asked either, not with the pout he’s giving me. _Right. Magic._

“So like, I could be in class, and you’d just freeze me?” I’m the one frowning now - half of me wants to step back, maybe to just outright run for the hills. _But if he could do it whenever, then he could easily stop me, couldn’t he?_ The other half of me is dripping with curiosity, because _holy shit he can do magic._ And it takes a lot for my brain to break its usual avoidance of swearing.

“Well, no, I’d have to be in class with you,” he leans against the edge of the door, arms crossing at his chest. I notice a pikachu printed on his shirt under the crook of his elbow, and a smile tugs at the corner of my lips. _A cute witch who loves Pokemon?_ “To do it, I have to be touching you,” I blink at him, words finally making their way past my ears and registering in the sleep-deprived mess of my mind.

“Oh, so it’s not like...a curse?” I jolt when he lets out a bitter laugh, checking the halls again for any signs we’ve woken someone.

“Not for _you_ ,” I frown at the serious tone his voice has taken - not angry, not sardonic or full of dark humor, just...sad. _No, it’s my job as an RA to make sure he has a good year. Even if he has weird magic that freezes people._

“Can you do anything other spells?” I let my curiosity take over, hoping it’ll distract him from this sudden melancholy, but he just quirks a brow at me, then sputters out another laugh - it’s even louder than the last one, and I find myself scanning the hall once again.

“It’s not…okay, look, if you’re not leaving me alone and you’re that worried about waking everyone up, just…” he pulls the door back, and my arm falls, pitching me forward a few steps. My face ends up dangerously close to the pikachu on Dan’s shirt; it’s gone less than a second later, as he stumbles away from me in a rush.

“Uh, okay,” I nod, though I realize I’m already in his room. The door’s swinging shut - very _very_ slowly - behind me, and the visibility gets worse and worse until we’re stood in a mostly black room lit only by a blueish laptop screen.

_Okay, I just locked myself in a room with a witch who can freeze people at will._

_At least he’s talking…_


	5. Some Kind of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, Phil manages to be late _again_.

“It’s not magic,” Dan huffs out, collapsing onto his bed with a creak of bed springs that has me checking over my shoulder - _door closed, good, surely nobody heard that._

I take a few steps forward, not sure where to go. _Do I stand? Or sit on the other bed, or should I sit on the chair? Maybe I should just-_

“Sit wherever,” he waves a hand, which sort of just looks like a white-ish blob surrounded by darkness. “It’s not spells or anything, I don’t know _what_ it is,” he adds, tone turning sour. I’d imagine his dimple is back, a frown plastered on his face, if I could actually see anything.

But my eyes have at least adjusted enough to locate the chair again - a bit more well-lit, being near the laptop - and I make my way over to it.

“Okay, uh, not magic,” I nod as I sit, though I have no idea what exactly that means. _Genetic experiment? The next generation of Xmen? Some strange technology? Oh, maybe he’s an alien! Or is it a curse, like he said?_ It’s not til he clears his throat that I realize I’ve been completely silent for the past...however long.

“That was, uh...kinda a dick move of me, to do that to you earlier,” he mumbles. With the light from the laptop screen shining in his direction, I can _almost_ make out his features - he’s turned to the side, staring at the duvet, I think, and biting at his lip again.

“I was the one bothering you,” I admit, because looking back, I had definitely pushed a bit too much - it was clear he didn’t want to talk. Or listen. _Very_ clear now, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty. “Can hardly blame you for using your...uh... _that_ to get me to shut up,” I chuckle, but it gets caught in my throat.

If everyone had freezing powers like Dan, I’m sure I’d have spent half my life frozen by now. Apparently, I tend to ramble.

“Why?” If it weren’t completely silent, I probably would’ve missed the word. Dan’s voice is low, and it doesn’t look like he’s moved, but there’s a flash of blueish-white, and I think it must be from his eyes - that he must’ve looked at me, just for a second, and they’d mirrored the light from the laptop back at me.

“Why do I talk so much?” Now I let out a proper laugh. “I wish I knew, nerves maybe?” 

“No,” he’s still quiet, but he turns toward me a bit more and I can almost picture the brown eyes that are watching me, even though they’re hidden behind the bright reflection of the laptop screen. “Why _me_?” _Oh._ It takes all of two seconds for my entire mindset to flip on its head.

“Well, I could say a whole bunch of stuff about how it’s my job as an RA, or how you looked like you could use a friend, but honestly?” I pause, trying to gauge his reaction - all I get is lifted brows, so I continue, mentally crossing my fingers. “You seem pretty cool, no pun intended,” I get an eye roll, which I take as a good sign. “So, I don’t know, I thought I’d talk to you?” The whole thing was meant to sound nonchalant, but it ends with a question and I _know_ I’m blushing. _Please let the light from behind make it impossible to tell…_

“Oh,” Dan’s eyes drift as he bites his lip again, then drops his gaze to the mattress below him. The air feels very awkward around us, so I stand.

“I should, uh, let you sleep though?” It’s another question - as if he’d say anything but _‘yeah, thanks for waking me up in the middle of the night, now let me get back to bed!_ \- but I wait for an answer anyway.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he nods, and I nod, and then he stands and we’re both at his door. When I open it into the hall, the light stings my eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” _Why do I keep phrasing everything as a question?_ I curse my sudden awkwardness - or, really, the ever-present awkwardness that’s just making itself more obvious right now. 

“Well, it’s four in the morning, so…” I turn back to find a smirking Dan staring at me, and I freeze almost totally of my own accord - it’s the closest thing to a real smile I’ve seen from him since I met him; usually, he’s just frowning and pouting. Granted, the pouting is pretty cute too. _Focus, he said words._

“Yeah,” I make a noise that I would deem a chuckle but probably anyone else would call a cough, then spin back to my door. 

At which point it dawns on me that I am very much lacking my keys. As quietly as I can, I lean my head against the door and let out a much more strangled version of the sound I made a moment ago.

“You forgot your key, didn’t you?” The voice behind me makes me jump, though I’m not sure why I’m surprised - Dan’s still at the door, and most likely saw my entire embarrassing realization. My face flushes with heat, and I’m sure my cheeks have turned bright red.

“Uh, yeah, it’s fine, I’ll just,” I make a vague gesture to the lounge, full of not-awful sofas to sleep on until PJ gets up - it would be rude to wake him now. 

“I literally have two beds, just crash on the spare until your roommate gets up,” my eyes widen, but Dan’s already turning, disappearing back into the darkness of his room. I could swear I caught a dusting of pink on his cheeks, but I’m more frozen by the offer - I’d have _sworn_ he hated me not twelve hours ago.

Fortunately for me, the door is still inching its way closed by the time I break free of my self-imposed paralysis, and I slip inside.

The beds are head to head and pushed sideways up against the wall, and Dan’s already tossed a blanket onto the bare mattress. 

“I don’t have an extra pillow, will Totoro do?” I glance up from the bed to find him stood across the room, brows lifted as he holds a large Totoro plushie in my direction. _An absolute enigma,_ is all I can think, and a grin splits my face.

“Yeah, that’s perfect, thank you,” I actually manage to catch it when he tosses it over, and he’s settled into his bed a few seconds later, pulling his duvet up to his chin. It’s only after watching this whole thing that I realize I should probably not just be staring at him, as that might come off a little weird.

“Are you going to lay down, or would you prefer the sofa in the very well-lit lounge?” Dan’s voice is thick with sarcasm, but I chuckle anyway. The mattress creaks under me as I stretch out on it, my head only a few inches and two planks of wood separate from this crazy boy with magic powers that aren’t actually magic and _wow_ what have I stumbled into here?

“You’re not gonna like...freeze me in my sleep or anything, are you?” I blurt out without thinking, but Dan only laughs.

“Do you talk in your sleep?” 

“No,” I answer, though I have to think for a moment. “I don’t _think_ I do, anyway,” I amend, because I’m not really sure.

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” there’s a rustling, then the room falls silent aside from my own breathing. Or maybe Dan’s, too - it’s hard to tell.

Despite the very possible threat on the other side of the headboard, I find myself grinning as I snuggle into the plush Totoro and tug the _extremely_ soft blanket tighter around me.

\-------------------------

I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but it must’ve been late - _early?_ \- because the tiniest hint of light had already begun sneaking its way into the room by the time I’d felt tired enough to drift off; my brain was not having any of this ‘ _just stay calm while you’re in the same room as a cute boy who could literally paralyze you whenever_ ’ thing. 

Can’t say I blame it.

I don’t wake until something hits me square in the face. When I reach up to swat the offending object away, I find myself grabbing at what I’m now realizing must be a pillow. I take a deep breath, about to push it off until a warm, soft smell fills my nose. _How does he smell so nice?_ My hand lingers, tempted to bury my face in the pillow and pretend it hadn’t actually woken me up. 

“Hey, you have some event in fifteen minutes, thought you might want to get up,” I still at the monotonous voice from across the room, which must belong to Dan. Then sigh. Then take _one_ more inhale of the lovely smell for the road.

I’m pleased to find my head seems a bit more sorted than it did when I went to bed last night, things fitting together in an orderly way - as orderly as it gets, with my brain - and I can’t help the smile that springs to my face. _Dan doesn’t hate me_. _I think_.

“What time is it?” A frown takes over, then, because this is only day two and I may end up late _again_. Before Dan gets the chance to answer, I’ve swung my feet over the edge of the bed, making my way to the door.

“Just before noon,” still absolutely bored. I glance over my shoulder, giving myself just a second to stare - _really, just...okay, two more seconds, that’s it!_

I don’t end up looking away until Dan glances over, brows scrunched as he eyes me.

“Well? Aren’t you going to be late?” My mouth opens and closes like a fish, and I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks as I try to come up with a response. Somehow, ‘ _you’re just really pretty, I didn’t want to leave_ ’ sounds a bit too... _much_.

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” I spin around, pulling the door open as quickly as I can. _If only I could blame his freezing powers..._ instead, I rush across the hall and knock. 

“Hey Peej, sorry, left my keys, can you-” I’m left hanging when the door swings inward, PJ behind it and frowning. “Right, sorry, I know!” I don’t let him go off on his rant about how I’m late _again_ , pushing past him and already at my wardrobe. _Clean clothes clean clothes clean- perfect._ I pull out jeans and a shirt, then glance over at PJ. 

Who’s only raised an eyebrow at me, and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, I know, give me five and I’ll be out in the lounge and ready to go, I promise!” I can hear the desperate edge my voice takes, begging forgiveness without really asking, but PJ just exhales, shakes his head, and leaves me with a snort and a half-smirk.

I allow myself exactly three seconds to feel bad, then rush to change out of my pyjamas and into something presentable - namely, my favorite button down and nicest black jeans. We’re meant to be doing a bunch of icebreaker games at the union - complete with pizza - and then introduce the freshman to their faculty advisors, so I want to look a little more presentable than, well, pyjamas. 

My choice of attire has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the cute boy across the hall.


	6. Truth Bombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Phil getting a bit protective?

After a few seconds of checking my hair in the mirror, I rush outside - thank _god_ I had time to take a shower yesterday. I didn’t really realize how time-consuming this week’s events would be. Or how much I’d be oversleeping.

“Alright, the man of the hour!” I can hear PJ’s voice before he comes into view, and I’m already trying to fight back my embarrassment and the accompanying blush on my cheeks.

“Sorry I’m late, guys! Let’s get some pizza!” I usher them forward, after PJ, and we head outside. It’s only once they’ve all broken up into little groups and started chatting that I allow myself a moment to breathe. And glance around. 

But there’s no mop of fluffy brown curls - aside from PJ’s - and I frown at the back of some freshman’s head. We’ve only been walking for a minute, so it takes me half a second to decide to turn around and rush back into the building and up the stairs. 

I find myself outside Dan’s room not twenty minutes after having left, knocking as impatiently as I had been last night.

“Dan? Hey, we have this thing, like lunch and then meeting with advisors and-”

“ _Not going!_ ” He calls through the door, and my hand pauses mid-knock.

“You’re- but, no, you _have_ to!” _Oh god, how embarrassing would it be to show up without one of the freshmen? How would I explain that to the advisors?_

“ _Don’t care_ ,” his voice has gone quieter, but I can still make out the words. I twist my lips, staring at the warped wood in front of my face. Then my eyes drift to the floor, trying to come up with a reason to make him go - obviously ‘required’ doesn’t have the same meaning for him that it does for everyone else. _‘I really want you to go’? Too weird, I barely know him._

“There’s free pizza?” I try instead, and there’s no response for a minute. Then another, and I’m about to knock again, until the door flies open before my raised fist.

“Well why didn’t you just say that?” Dan’s already changed into a long-sleeved black shirt that will probably be a bit warm for the weather but looks _very_ nice on him and a pair of black jeans that - I notice as he steps into the hall ahead of me - cling just a _bit_ too tightly to his hips and legs to be legal. He has _no business_ looking that good. 

It’s not til we’re halfway to the union that my eyes refocus and my brain stops running around in circles, following the loops of Dan’s curls and the lines of his shoulders and hips and... _okay, stop, you have to be a leader, and show the faculty that you are as well._

“Uh, so there’s pizza, but I feel like I should warn you…” I realize, belatedly, how much he seems to hate socializing. To be fair, I do as well, but I know exactly what I’m about to walk into. Dan stops dead in his tracks.

“What are you dragging me into?” His voice has gone low, dripping with malice, but so soft that I wonder if something’s wrong. _Oh god, what if he has like a proper anxiety disorder and I’m about to march him into a bad situation, and he has a panic attack or something? And it would be all my fault?_ I’m suddenly mentally scanning his file, trying to remember if he’d mentioned anything of the sort.

“No, it’s just, uh, like icebreaker, get-to-know-you games and stuff,” I frown, stopping beside him. He exhales, and his features all go slack for half a second. Then his lips are set in a hard line, and he rolls his eyes.

“I expect I can get out of those, at least,” he says, taking another stride forward; he sets a brisker pace than before, in spite of his clear distaste for the social requirements of this event. His shoulders seem a bit more haunched, too, but he’s intent on staying a few steps ahead of me. 

As it turns out, I really don’t mind - I’d love to talk to him, but if he won’t let me, then I’m glad to just stare at him. Especially because he can’t see me staring. 

We arrive at the union far too quickly for either of our tastes, and Dan’s hand hesitates on the handle of the door to the cafeteria. 

“Come on,” I push through the door beside the one he’s paused at, catching his eye for half a second. “If you don’t hurry, there won’t be any pizza left, and then you’ve left your room for nothing!” I joke, and that seems to set him in motion. 

We walk _almost_ side by side toward the huge group of students - the rest of our floormates - and PJ is the first to notice us.

“There he is! Quick, grab some pizza, I’m trying to explain this game,” a pause, and he glances around the table, “guys, it was _Phil’s_ idea, okay, I don’t know how it works,” then back at me, “hurry. And Dan, there’s a couple empty chairs over here, grab some pizza and join us!” 

I’m already headed toward the tables covered in half-empty pizza boxes, but I look over to find Dan stood pretty much in the exact same spot as before, chewing at his lip. After a tense moment, he turns toward me and basically speed-walks over, eyes glued to the floor.

“ _Phil_ ,” I nearly jump when he hisses out my name, and I peek out of the corner of my eye at him: he’s got a plate in hand, piling it with a couple slices of meat-lovers pizza, but I can see the way his hand is shaking. “I _can’t_ sit near them,” his voice is still low, and I have to remind myself to continue moving - _really, paralyzing me without even touching me, is he sure he doesn’t have that ability as well?_ I have to fight back a smirk.

“Okay, uh,” I’m putting my own pizza on my plate, then turning to take in our surroundings. Unfortunately, everyone at the tables is squished together, shoulder to shoulder - I can see why he’d be uncomfortable, if he’s so socially anxious. I’m not really looking to being in close contact with so many- _oh. Oh._

“Oh!” I finally say aloud, eyes going wide. Then I spin back to Dan. “It’s because of the...uh, thing?” I realize I’m being vague, but he said it’s not _magic_ , so I’m not sure what to call it. What does he prefer to call it? I know he sort of said it’s a ‘curse’, but that sounds so awful. 

There’s no response, so I glance over, and he nods tightly, lips pursed.

“Hey, Peej, why don’t we start a second game, there’s no way you’re going to fit us both at that table!” I give PJ a bright grin, but keep my eyes a bit wide in the hopes that he gets where I’m going with it. Or at least some approximation, because I don’t know if I can convey _‘this new guy has a weird ability that paralyzes people and he really can’t - or maybe won’t? - touch anyone, so can you go along with this to help me make him more comfortable?’_ with a single look. Or even several.

“Oh,” PJ glances around, then purposely bumps shoulders with the two freshmen sat beside him before grinning back at me. “Great idea! Half of you, head over to uh...that table,” he points to a long table a bit farther from us, “and Phil can run the game over there.” 

As a few of them stand to shuffle over to the other table, PJ gives me a brief nod. _Oh thank god, he understood._ Well, he understood that I asked for a _reason_ , at least. 

“But come explain the game here, first!” He shouts over the general noise of scraping chairs and low conversation as people get settled, and I nod and hold up a finger before turning back toward Dan.

“Save me a seat?” I’m immensely pleased with myself, but he only looks slightly less terrified. Watching the way his chest rises and falls with the extremely deep breath he exhales, I wonder if I’ve somehow messed it up even further, and I’m suddenly tense. 

“Sure,” he swallows, and there’s almost _almost_ a tiny curl to his lips as he walks over to the emptiest part of the table and sits down. I don’t miss the way he scoots farther from the girl next to him, closer to the empty chair he’s set his pizza plate on to claim.

I take my own plate and head toward PJ’s slightly less suffocating table and do my best to go over the rules.

“Basically, it’s about first impressions,” I try, still a little uncomfortable having all eyes on me. “So Peej has a list of questions,” I pause, glancing over, and he nods, “right, a list of questions, and you’ll anonymously write down what your answer would be _for that person_.” When I’m met with a lot of empty gazes and scrunched brows, PJ chimes in.

“So, for example, one question could be ‘where’s their favorite vacation spot?’ and you’d have to write where you think that would be, based on your first impressions of them, does that make sense?” We both scan for looks of recognition - there are a few nods.

“So like, for you, I’d say wherever there’s no sun, cause you’re so pale?” A girl pipes up, and PJ and I both turn, wide-eyed, to the blonde - Louise. She’s pursed her lips, eyes flicking between us. Then PJ bursts out laughing, and I have to join him.

“Yes, _exactly_ like that,” PJ gives her a few mocking golf claps. “Everyone get it?” There are a few more nods now, and some residual chuckles, so I pick up my pizza and head back to my table to repeat the process.


	7. Acquaintance of Convenience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PJ gets involved because his pal is being a bit too socially inept for his liking (and thank god for him because seriously without him I doubt this story would go much of anywhere).

Exactly as he said he would, Dan refuses to play the game, and I let him off easy. He’s leaned back in his chair, which is already pushed a ways away from the table. But it’s still pretty close to me, closer than he is to the girl on his opposite side, and it’s making it very hard to focus on the actual game.

“ _What?_ Who said I’d be a _furry_???” I glance up from my remaining slice of pizza to find the blonde guy across from us, Jake, with bright red cheeks and mouth hung open in shock. I have to stifle my own giggle - it wasn’t me, but his reaction is pretty funny.

An actual _snort_ sounds beside me, and I turn, brows arched up my forehead, to find Dan with a hand clamped over his mouth. The corners of his eyes have crinkled, and I really _really_ wish he’d move his hand. I’d like to see him smiling properly, even if it’s just over a furry joke.

“Not me,” he does move his hand now, raising it in the air with his other and doing his best to suppress the grin. His dimple is out again, deep and adorable, and I’m suddenly glad that it shows up when he’s smiling, too. “I’m not even playing.”

I glance around the table - I wasn’t the only one who’d looked at Dan when he laughed. A little piece of my mind wants to be mad, to say ‘ _no, he’s mine, look how close he is to me!’_ but it’s silly, and I shut it down quickly. _He’s just closer to me because he knows me and doesn’t know anyone else._ Obviously.

“Oi, and fuck you, who said I’d be into _hentai_? Come on, mate,” Jake’s back to complaining about his responses, and then everyone’s laughing, and I’m the only one staring at Dan again. Apparently, the attention had gone straight to his head - or his cheeks, really, as they’re now a splotchy pink. I want to lay my hand there, feel how warm they are. 

“Dr. Velazquez!” I hear PJ’s voice above the dying laughter, and push my chair back in a rush - the advisors must be here.

“Alright guys, we’ll be handing you off to your advisors now, and we’ll see you again for dinner tonight!” I’m doing my best to usher them up and toward the handful of professors who will be working with the freshmen to help them with their first year from an academic standpoint.

“Greetings!” Dr. Velasquez - Vel, as he’d have us call him - announces once PJ and I have gathered the students. Then he launches into a speech about how important the first year is, what the advisors will be helping with, et cetera.

“Hey, you good?” PJ’s beside me a second later, grabbing a few of the plates that have been left at the tables in an attempt to get things cleaned up faster. At his question, my brows scrunch further - to be honest, I hadn’t realized they’d been scrunched to begin with.

“Uh, sure, why wouldn’t I be?” I counter, trying to smooth out my expression. Arms loaded down with plates, I make my way to the trash can, doing my best to make it without dropping anything. He’s two steps behind me, and I look up to find him staring at me with an appraising eyebrow raised. After a moment of this stare-off, he just shrugs and turns toward the group of advisors and students.

“Alright, if your last name begins with A through E, you’ll be with me. F through K, with Melanie, L through P with Dr. Emerson, and Q through Z with Farhad,” he’s pointed at each of them in turn, and I follow the hesitant movements of the brown crop of curls as their owner drifts toward Dr. Jacquelyn - she prefers students address her by first name, Melanie. I catch myself frowning at Dan’s discomfort, almost wishing I could go with him.

_Don’t be silly, it’s not like he’d want you there, you were just an acquaintance of convenience._

Then I’m frowning properly, and PJ nudges me.

“Heading back now? Or have you got some more staring to do?” I don’t miss the laughter in his tone, and I direct a hot-faced scowl his way. By the time I glance back to where Dan’s group is, they’re already headed toward the door.

“I’m not staring,” I argue to the empty space beside me - PJ’s headed in the opposite direction, toward the door that’ll lead back to our building.

Because he’s no longer there to tease me about it, I watch as Dan disappears from sight before turning and following PJ.

\------------------------------

“So, what, you have a crush on Dan, then?” I’m assaulted the moment I walk through the door, and immediately flop down on my bed with a groan.

“It’s not like _that_ ,” I realize it probably sounds like that’s _exactly_ what it is, when I was so quick to deny it - also that _might_ play a role - but… “it’s not that, really, he just has...a special, uh, situation? Circumstance?” I’m trying to find the right word without really _saying_ anything. 

“What, something he didn’t put in his file?” PJ’s voice sounds more direct, and I look up from the bed to find he’s turned in his chair to face me. His headphones dangle around his neck: this is a serious PJ.

“Uh, sorta?” _Is it really my place to say?_ I frown, dropping my head back to the pillow. “He just...needs more space, I guess?” That seems safe enough. “Like he said in his email, he had to be alone, there was a, uh, reason for it.” I conclude, which is all very true but not _everything._

“Phil, is he…” there’s an unnecessarily dramatic pause, and I look back up to find PJ’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of his mouth. The ‘quiet contemplation’ PJ. He finally looks up from the carpet. “Is it something I need to know about? Because if he’s a danger to-”

“No! No, he’s not, not dangerous,” I wonder if my outburst - directly linked with nearly jumping from the bed - is a bit suspicious. _Is he dangerous?_ I’m afraid to answer the question honestly in my head. “It’s not like that, I promise,” _I hope_. 

But no, surely he’s not _really_ dangerous - he’d been able to undo whatever he did to me, right? I mean, if he wanted to hurt someone, I guess he could do it just as easily with a knife or something, since he has to be touching someone to freeze them. PJ’s giving me a very hard, long stare.

“Fine,” he relents after a solid thirty seconds, “but if it’s something I need to know, I expect you to tell me, okay?” I nod, trying to convey a sincerity I don’t really feel. _I can be afraid of him on my own, but if he’s got the potential to hurt someone else...it’s my duty as an RA to tell someone, right?_

\---------------------------

By the time we’re getting ready to leave for dinner and the trip to the cinema - PJ had managed to hook us up with the theater, and we got the entire place to ourselves to screen Star Wars - I’ve thoroughly talked myself down; _surely_ Dan wouldn’t tell me about what he can do if he had any intention of hurting someone. 

Besides, I’m too hyped about good food and Star Wars to bother feeling guilty for long; this’ll be the last high-quality meal I can afford before I head home for winter break, since it’s being funded by the student engagement office and not by my own very-empty wallet.

I’m actually ready early, this time - PJ seems very appreciative - and we’re waiting out in the lounge for the rest of the freshmen to congregate. I alternate between watching the time - two minutes til we’re meant to leave - and the still-closed door across the hall. Dan’s not here yet. I’m trying not to be to disappointed, but the event isn’t mandatory, so I know I shouldn’t expect him to be going.

“Mate, your eyeballs aren’t capable of knocking, go over there and use your hand,” PJ must’ve snuck up beside me, because his voice is very loud even in the general noise of conversations around us, and I sort of jump.

“Well, what if he doesn’t want to come? I don’t want to be pushy,” I argue, though my fingers are already twitching to go over and knock.

“Fine, I’ll be pushy, then,” there’s a gust of air as he takes a few brisk steps forward, knocking confidently on the door, and I want to go hide in a hole for the rest of my life. But PJ’s not waiting for Dan to open up, he’s grabbing my arm by the wrist and dragging me in front of Dan’s door.

“Peej, what-” I’m about to protest and run away when the door inches open. Wide brown eyes peek out from the crack, scanning me from head to toe. _I wish he wouldn’t do that, it’s making my heartbeat go very fast_. I also wish he’d keep doing it. I also wish I could do that to him, but he’s hidden away mostly behind the wood door.

“Well? What do you want?” His tone is flat, like I’ve just interrupted his dinner to try to sell him a phonebook or whatever it is door-to-door salesmen sell. I offer my best smile, which is not really that great considering I’m very nervous.

“Are you, uh, did you want to come- we’re, uh...there’s a dinner and movie?” I twist my lips, hoping he got the message. 

“I know,” he nods, “and, shocker, I hadn’t planned on going,” but the tone in his voice has gone a bit softer, and his expression has relaxed into something a little less ‘ _why are you here_ ’. There’s a tense pause, though, like he’s waiting for me to say something. _What do I say?_

“I, uh, okay, I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, but...if you _did_ want to, that would be, uhm, good also,” I squeak when a hand lands on my shoulder - it’s not Dan’s.

“Hey Dan, PJ, don’t think we’ve met. Anyway, what Phil’s failing miserably at saying is that he’d be _thrilled_ if you joined us, and we’re leaving in a few minutes,” then he’s gone, and I follow his progress back into the group of people milling around the lounge.

“Uh, what he said?” I give Dan a half-smile when I turn back, but he’s just frowning. Not at me, directly, but it still feels like a failure. “I mean, yeah, but if you don’t want to, that’s-”

“Okay,” is the only response I get before his face disappears and the door inches itself closed. My mouth is still dropped open, but I manage to sort it into a smile by the time the door opens again.

Unfortunately, my jaw is very much wanting to drop back to the floor when Dan emerges.


	8. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little chat, and a bit of a cold shoulder. So many puns, okay, just cope.

He’s got a black button-down on with the shoulders cropped out and replaced with black lace, showing off pale smooth skin underneath, along with those tight black skinny jeans from earlier. Unlike earlier, though, he’s replaced his simple trainers with boots to match the rest of his outfit, and the whole ensemble makes his eyes stand out; if I didn’t know better - _although, do I?_ \- I might think he had on a bit of eyeliner as well.

“Is this nice enough? I know the restaurant is pretty fancy,” there’s suddenly some pink on his cheeks, and I realize I’ve literally been just staring at him in silence for the past thirty seconds.

“Come on, guys, let’s go!” I blink when I hear PJ’s voice, then remember that I’ve been asked a question.

“Yes, yeah! Yeah, you look, uhm, yeah, it’s good,” _words, you’re an English major, jeez._ But he seems to understand well enough, because he’s setting off after the rest of the group without so much as a confused glance my way. _Daniel Howell’s unintentional paralysis strikes again_ , my brain thinks, and I lift a hand to try to hide the giggle that creeps up my chest and out my mouth.

“Something funny?” Dan throws the words over his shoulder, and I clamp my jaw. Then jog to catch up to him - we’re just pushing out the doors and onto the street, and I slow only once I’m walking beside him. Not too close, I don’t want him to be uncomfortable, but still close.

“No, just, uhm,” _crap, think of something to say..._ I can’t very well say I was laughing about his freezing...power? Is it a power? Ability, maybe? “Thanks!” I blurt out after a moment of consideration. Which earns me a scrunched brow and slight frown from Dan.

“You’re welcome? What did I do?” He’s still watching me, which is unnerving - there’s a lot of eye contact, even for me, and I’m surprised he’s the one making it. I have to drop my gaze to the ground the moment I feel my face flush with warmth.

“Uh, for agreeing to go, otherwise I’d have been lonely and uncomfortable all night!” The words spill out before I realize it, and I scramble to backtrack, eyes going wide. “Not that I don’t like any of the others - I mean, not that I like _you_ , cause I _do_ like you but not like _that_ \- and then I’d have to be super social and talk to everyone all evening, which is just not my cup of tea, and-”

“For someone who doesn’t like to talk, you talk a _lot,_ ” Dan interrupts, scoffing at the pavement as we walk. My feet don’t do an excellent job of the walking bit, though, and I nearly trip.

“Right, sorry, I’ll keep quiet,” my mind flashes back to the night he froze me, and I press my lips together. The silence between us stretches out for so long that I start trying to tune into the conversations ahead of us - they’re far, though, and it mostly just sounds like garbled mumbling. 

“I mean…” then _Dan_ mumbles something, and I look over: his eyes are still on his boots, but I can see a hint of a blush from here. I give him a questioning hum, and he peeks over and up through thick lashes. “You can talk, I don’t mind,” then he’s refocused on the ground, and the pink in his cheeks deepens to a bright red. He even slides his hands into his pockets.

“You won’t freeze me?” I keep my voice low, though we’re already a ways back from the other students. His eyes go wide anyway, head twisting sharply toward me, and he sucks in a breath. “Sorry, sorry, nobody heard, don’t worry,” I check around us, then turn back to find his shoulders have relaxed.

“I won’t,” he exhales the words on a breath, “I promise.” For some reason, the promise sounds very heavy. Then it’s back to silence, but I’ve lost what I was saying, and I’m not sure what I could actually say right now. Apparently the topic of his _ability_ is very out of bounds.

“So, uh, Star Wars?” It’s quiet, until Dan sputters out a laugh.

“Star Wars, yeah,” he agrees, “that’s what the movie is, right?” _Apparently he’s less socially inept than I am, that’s good_. I shove my own hands in my pockets, otherwise I know they’d be covering my face - why I’m so awkward, I may never know.

“Well, yeah, but it’s the second one, like of the prequels, so…” I trail off - I don’t hate them the way other people do, but they aren’t my favorites either. We’d been lucky to get temporary screening rights for _any_ of the films, so I’m not about to be picky.

“Perfect, I think the prequels are underrated.” There’s no inflection in his voice, it’s just a conclusive statement, and the silence drags out again. I only glance over when a light breeze - cool, now that night has fallen - brushes past us and I notice Dan actually shiver. 

“Cold?” I ask, frowning. The lace in that shirt has to make it much colder than a regular button-down would be, and I’m sort of wishing I had a jacket to offer him. _Would he take that the wrong way, though? Would I_ want _him to take it a particular way?_

“I’m not bloody _Elsa_ , for fuck’s sake,” the harsh tone pulls me out of my head; Dan’s clenched his jaw, staring down at the pavement. “It’s not fucking _ice powers_ or whatever, so _yeah_ , I can still get cold.” Finally, he looks up, the glare absolutely daring me to say something. I’m not sure _what_ to say, so I just watch him, wide-eyed.

It’s not til he quickens his pace, stomping ahead of me, that I realize being quiet is not a good idea right now.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant, I just…” I trail off to catch up, reaching a hand out to stop him. When he jerks away violently, I frown. “I didn’t...I’m sorry, it’s-” instead of words, I just groan, running hands down my face. At least he’s paused, and I open my eyes to find his slightly squinted, wary but interested.

“What I _meant_ was that you looked cold. That’s all I meant, I promise,” I try again, and he acknowledges this with a sharp nod. “And I shouldn’t have touched you, I know you’re...sensitive about that, so I’m sorry.” I hate arguing with people, even people I barely know. Actually, _especially_ people I barely know. Especially people I _really like._ I don’t say that bit out loud.

There’s a tense silence where I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but everything about Dan’s expression softens and then he’s licking his lips and I have a brief moment to think that _I_ would like to lick his lips as well. Then he’s talking.

“Okay. I shouldn’t have snapped, I just...I don’t tell many people?” I twist my lips, trying to hide a smile. _He trusts me_. “And when I do, it usually doesn’t end well,” his hands find their way from his pockets to the crooks of his elbows, crossing his arms. His mouth opens, closes, opens again, and I think he’s about to say something else; instead, he turns and sets off down the street, catching up to the rest of the group.

They’re all hovering outside the entrance to the restaurant, and Dan drifts to the edge of the crowd, arms still crossed and bouncing a bit on his toes. I chuckle to myself - he really _is_ a cute enigma. I hope he doesn’t dislike me.


	9. There's a Rose but it's Not a Date (Seriously)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh the title says it all.

Because we have so many people, we had to rent out the entire second floor - it was cheaper than their banquet hall, which is for ‘special events’, but it means we’re stuck sitting at individual tables of two and four and six instead of larger tables. 

Dan and I are the last in, and I would _very_ much like to pretend I’m bothered by our seating options: either we’ll be squished in with others at one of the four-person booths that could _maybe_ fit six, or we can have the one remaining table. For two people. 

There’s a _rose_ on the table - well, there’s a rose on _every_ table, but it sets my heart hammering anyway. _This is not a date, not even close, don’t get freaked out_. Before I can suggest any of our limited options, Dan makes a beeline for the empty table, only glancing up at me once he’s sat down. I’m quick to join him. And ignore the raised eyebrow PJ shoots my way from his own booth.

As I sit, I do my best to calm my breathing and heart rate, even going so far as to lean back in my chair - if I can act casual, I can be casual, right? Until my legs stretch out under the table and immediately brush against Dan’s; it seems he’s had the same idea. 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” I reign in my wayward limbs, sitting up and leaning my elbows on the table instead. Dan hadn’t freaked out, though - aside from maybe his eyes going a bit wide - so I take it as a small victory. _I’m getting through to him!_

“‘S fine,” he mumbles back, but there’s a light blush on his cheeks. Did it ever leave? _I hope it never does, it looks adorable._ The dim yellowy-orange light of the restaurant is making everything about him look twice as pretty, gold and black and curves and sharp lines. I _really_ wish he didn’t have a thing about touching.

“Hope you don’t mind,” a familiar voice says over my shoulder, and I glance up to find PJ staring across the table. At Dan. “Need to borrow this guy for a minute,” _oh, right, we’re supposed to be doing...uh...something._

Dan just shrugs, which PJ must take as a satisfactory response, because he’s pulling me up from my chair and toward the front of the room, right in front of a long table laid out with all kinds of different foods. I nearly jump when I feel an elbow in my ribs, then cough as I have to literally drag my gaze away from where Dan’s sat.

“Right! So Peej and I wanted to give you all one final excellent meal before you’re stuck living off the dining hall food for the rest of the semester,” this one earns me some laughter, and even a smirk from Dan - I’m trying to look at _everyone_ , make some eye contact with the other freshmen, but I keep coming back to him.

“So this is a treat for you!” PJ chimes in, noticing my lapse. “Dig in, eat as much as you’d like, but keep in mind-” his tone grows serious, brows furrowing, “there _will_ be unlimited popcorn during Star Wars, so plan accordingly!” More laughter, and chairs start to scrape as people get ready to hit the buffet.

“Wait! One last thing,” I hold my hands up and PJ frowns at me, then nods when he remembers one crucial detail. “Alcohol is allowed,” I pause for the chorus of cheers, shaking my head and grinning at the excitement - I’m not surprised - “but only two drinks. You’ll need to get drink tickets from either myself or Peej.” I punctuate the sentence by waving my arms toward the food, and nobody has to be told twice.

As I make my way back to the table - to where Dan’s still sitting, watching me - I frown.

“You don’t want anything?” I slide my own chair out to sit - I’ll let the freshmen get food first, plus I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people bugging me about drink tickets in a bit anyway.

“I’ll wait,” Dan shrugs, “I love food a lot, but I hate people more,” he tacks it on nonchalantly, but there’s a sad undertone that makes me frown. “ _However_ ,” this word he draws out, and I glance up to find him staring, smirking, at me. There’s a glint in his eye. “I could certainly use a drink. Or two.” Now the smirk has turned into a full-on mischievous grin, and he sticks his hand out toward me.

With a chuckle, I fish the tickets - really, just slips of paper - from my pocket and give him two. He’s gone a second later, and I follow his progress to the bar opposite the buffet table - it’s not busy, since everyone’s focused on the food, and he returns a moment later holding two shots. 

“Oh, I can’t drink tonight,” I smile at him, but he just sets both glasses in front of him and scoffs at me.

“I figured,” is all he says, and my eyebrows drift high on my forehead as I watch him down both in quick succession. “Do me a favor?” If my eyebrows were high before, they’re on the moon now. _He’s asking for help? Either that or he’s got some snarky remark._ I try not to frown - no good can come from assuming.

“Sure,” I’d bet my face is the picture of ‘trustworthy RA who knows all your secrets and would also very much like to kiss-’ _wait. This is not the direction this is meant to go. It’s good I’m not drinking_ anything _tonight, I don’t think my head is in the right place._ I only refocus on my surroundings when Dan leans closer, head halfway across the table, and gestures for me to come closer.

“Don’t let me touch anyone,”his voice isn’t exactly _quiet_ , but it’s not loud either. It doesn’t stop us both from checking around us to be sure nobody’s heard. “I tend to get...uh, touchy? I guess? When I drink,” he concludes, leaning back in his chair again. I nod, as though this is the most normal thing on the planet. _He trusts me._ I want to do a little happy dance, but I settle for a small smile.

“Okay,” I wonder, briefly, if it’s possible to get contact-drunk the same way you can get contact-high. Because the first place my mind goes is how I’d _love_ a touchy, drunk Dan. And that is not where my mind should be going right now. _Focus_. “I, uh, I’m gonna go get some food, will you be good if I leave?” 

“Phil, I literally took two shots like twenty seconds ago. I’m not getting drunk that fast.” I can _feel_ the eye roll in his deadpan voice, though he does it anyway. “Go on,” he nods at me, and I stand from my chair in a sort of detached state.

Along the way to the buffet table, a few of the freshmen stop me for drink tickets, and I dole them out dutifully. _See, I’m a good RA!_ I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, though.

The food smells _amazing_ , and I end up with a very full plate before I’ve even gone through half the offered options. _Ugh, and_ popcorn _later as well._ I groan at the silvery trays beckoning me with their deliciousness, then heave a sigh as I turn away and back toward Dan. Who has, rather mysteriously, acquired a fancy cocktail of some kind. 

“Didn’t I already give you your drink tickets?” I frown, setting my plate down and doing my best approximation of a chastising glare. Dan just laughs, sips from the blueish-purple drink, and scoots his own chair back. A moment later, he’s at the nearly empty buffet table, filling his own plate. I watch him until he turns around, then I drop my gaze immediately - he does _not_ need to know the amount of time I just spent staring at his ass. Not at all.

By the time he’s returned, I’ve already dug into my food - which is a horribly bittersweet event: it’s as delicious as I had expected, but it’s almost tainted because I _know_ I’ll have to deal with the sub-par dining hall food for the next three months. I must look pretty distressed, as Dan feels the need to comment.

“What did those mashed potatoes do to you?” He’s got a bite in his mouth himself, and he’s talking around it; there’s just a hint of laughter in his tone. I swallow.

“Broken my heart,” I adjust my grip on my fork so I can place my hand over my chest and stare dramatically off into the distance. This earns me a proper laugh from Dan, though he quickly covers it with a sip from his illegally obtained cocktail. “Where’d you get that, by the way?” My frown returns, this time directed at his drink.

“Told PJ you failed to give me my drink tickets,” he shrugs, digging back into his food. “Not sure he believed me,” this is said around another bite, “but he took pity and gave me one, said to get the other from you later.” He’s focused on his plate, so I scan the room for PJ - he’s sat at another table, chatting animatedly, and it takes a moment to catch his eye.

 _You did what now?_ I shout via a glare and raised eyebrows, plus a pointed look in Dan’s direction.

PJ only shrugs and grins before launching back into whatever story he’d been telling. I look back to find Dan staring at me. 

“Uh,” I clear my throat, stabbing at a random vegetable on my plate, “right, we have a movie to get to, so, uh, better hurry,” I shut my eyes, tilting my head down toward my own food. _Another awkward point to Phil Lester, conversational genius!_


	10. A Test?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil reveals his own curse.

We finish our meals in silence, and I do my best to will my digestive system to speed up so I’ll have more room for popcorn in less than half an hour. Dan’s sipping at his cocktail, and I can’t help but shake my head at him. He must notice the movement, because he locks eyes with me as he downs the very last bit.

“So, I was promised another drink ticket?” He’s leaned forward on the table, glass set to the side, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t blinked. Dan’s eyes, however, are heavily lidded, and he’s staring up through those thick eyelashes that look too perfect to be real. _He_ looks too perfect to be real.

“P-promised?” I manage to stutter out, because he just so _happens_ to lick his lips at the same time I try to speak. “I don’t, uh,” I clear my throat, “I don’t recall making any such promises,” my tongue seems to have remembered how to work, because it’s doing a decent job of making words. _Did I actually drink and I just can’t remember?_ My brain certainly feels foggy enough for it.

“Please?” It’s only when his fingers reach across the table that I realize I’ve leaned forward as well, that our faces are maybe a foot apart. _He’s going to touch me_ , the idea floats into my head on a cloud; it’s not that I don’t know what his touch is capable of, but I don’t get the idea that he’s out to freeze me. Manipulate me into giving him another drink ticket, maybe, but he can’t exactly do that by paralyzing me.

He pulls his hand back at the last second, frowning first at it, then at me.

“You said you wouldn’t let me touch anyone,” he whines, and his frown turns into a pout, lips puffing out; I briefly wonder what they would taste like right now - syrupy from his cocktail, I bet, but with a bite from the alcohol.

“Well,” I cleverly break the awkward silence after a few seconds, “were you going to freeze me?” I keep my voice low, though I doubt anyone would hear if I spoke normally. He shakes his head just slightly, eyes drifting down. “Then you can touch me,” I don’t mean it to sound like _that_ , but my brain definitely sends all kinds of signals to the rest of my body as soon as the idea pops into my head; I would very much like him to touch me like _that_.

“Alright everyone!” PJ’s voice draws my attention, so I completely miss whatever Dan’s reaction was. _Great timing, Peej._ “It’s about time to head over, the theater’s just around the corner. I’ll hang back here, but Phil will lead the way for anyone who wants to leave now!” I can’t even allow myself a frown at being volunteered, since PJ’s literally been running everything else so far. _I_ am _kinda shirking my RA duties…_

“Shall we?” I offer to Dan before even thinking twice - he has no reason to want to come with me, and what if he wanted to stay a bit longer? _Oh god, I’m just making all kinds of assumptions, friend of convenience, that’s all I am really, I need to stop-_

“Yeah,” my train of thought pauses at the word, and I watch Dan stand. He’s not exactly _wobbly_ , but he’s definitely close to it, and it takes him a second to adjust to his upright position. I try not to smirk, which ends with me pursing my lips and clenching my jaw to fight back the urge.

I head down first, pleased that Dan’s following close behind. A group of other freshmen trail along even further back, but they keep their distance. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, until we’re out on the street and Dan can’t seem to walk a straight line. Which leads to him bumping into me, like a _lot_. _I was right, I_ do _like touchy Dan._

Although he’s not exactly _touchy_ , mostly just...he doesn’t mind the lack of personal space. His arm brushes mine frequently, and I feel tingles in spite of the two layers of fabric of our shirts separating us. _If I had him alone, those two layers would disappear pretty-_

“Uh, Phil?” A voice from behind me, and I whirl around to find a shorter girl with close-cropped brunette hair - Jessie, maybe? - furrowing her brows at me. And pointing up. “Isn’t this the place?” _Oh_.

In my hazy distraction, I’d walked right past the entrance to the theater.

“Yeah! Hah, too much food, my brain’s stopped working,” I joke, though I can feel the flush crawling up my cheeks. It’s not til I feel a tug on my hand - my actual _hand_ , no clothing involved - that I realize Dan’s intent on continuing our walk. And definitely still a bit drunk.

“Come _on_ ,” he whines, but I use his grip on my hand to tug him gently toward the theater. He relents pretty quickly, letting me lead him into the lobby without much fuss. Until he nearly trips over the carpet. 

Then his hand has left mine, but not before he curses, flails, and generally barely manages to catch himself - I feel bad that I can’t help.

I can’t, because he’s frozen me. Again.

“Excuse me, sir, you have theater twelve rented out for the screening of Star Wars, correct?” A voice approaches from my left, and I can feel my heart racing. “Sir?” I will my body to move, hoping I can somehow overcome the paralysis, and a moment later, I’m spinning around and sort of out of breath. _Oh my god, did I just…?_

But no, Dan’s at my side, hand just retreating from where it brushed mine as he shoots me a sheepish look; then he’s ducking his head to stare at the ground. He takes a very noticeable step away - noticeable to me, anyway.

“Right, uh, that’s me,” I manage, trying to breathe through my words. In spite of myself - because I _know_ he didn’t do it on purpose - I find myself wiggling my toes, then my fingers. 

“Excellent, right this way,” the man leads us to a small theater situated in the back of the building, and I follow the turns we take well enough to text them to PJ. I’m trying to listen to whatever the man is saying, really, but I’m intently focused on Dan’s whereabouts out of the corner of my eye - how far away he is, how he keeps his eyes on the tacky red carpet. _It’s okay!_ I want to scream, to tell him I’m not mad or scared or whatever he seems to think.

“And you’ll find the small concession stand just around that corner, all non-alcoholic drinks and popcorn are included in your payment. With that, I’ll leave you to your evening! The movie will start in,” he checks his watch, “fifteen minutes.” I nod absently through the whole explanation. As the man disappears back the way we came, most of the freshmen make their way to the concessions. I spin around to talk to Dan.

Who - based on the closing of the theater door - seems to have already gone to find a seat. I suppress a sigh, then follow him in. 

It’s strange to see such an empty theater - it’s not large, by any means, but it feels unusual and open, like going into a school after hours. Dan’s already chosen a seat, all the way in the back and next to the wall - apparently afraid of having anyone touch him while trying to slide past - and I climb the steps two at a time.

“You shouldn’t sit here,” he’s got his arms folded across his chest, and he’s frowning down at the cup holder. 

“Too bad,” I plop down heavily beside him, and he flinches away. I try not to let it get to me. _He’s just afraid that I’m afraid_. I really want to reach out and hold his hand, show him it’s okay and I’m okay and _he’s_ okay. But I don’t. “You’ll just have to deal with it.” I stretch my legs out, effectively blocking him from going anywhere - even if he wanted to, he’d most likely have to touch me to get around me.

I can practically _hear_ him pouting, and I’m trying my best not to peek over at him - I’m sure he looks adorably frustrated, but I really need to keep up the ‘ _I don’t care about your powers_ ’ facade. 

Although, calling it a facade wouldn’t be true, exactly - sure, it’s a little freaky when I can’t move, but he’s not actually hurting me, and he’d only done it that one time on purpose, and only because I was bothering him. I think he’s secretly a big softie who’s convinced I should hate him just for having a strange ability. 

“I don’t get it, why are you so nice about this? I literally froze you? I mean, not on purpose, but I obviously can’t control myself, and I just don’t get how you can be so _relaxed_ about it and not _hate_ me, I mean-”

“Dan,” I turn toward him, twisting my lips and trying to decide what exactly to say - I only said his name so he’d stop freaking out. There’s a tense silence, and he’s just watching me with pursed lips and wide eyes. “I like you,” I do _not_ elaborate about the kind of ‘like’ that I feel, but even saying that has butterflies floating in my chest. “And you can do this thing, and sometimes you can’t control it, and that’s fine. I mean, I talk a _lot_ , and I can’t control it, and some people still like me!” _Relatable, that’s good!_

“That’s _different_ ,” he protests, “I force people to do something- er, _not_ do something,” he frowns, “it’s different.” 

“I force people to _listen_ to my waffling,” I counter, but his frown only deepens. “But it doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do, I like you and you can’t talk me out of it.” I sit back into the chair, hoping that went over aloud as well as it had in my head.

“I, uh, like you too,” his voice has gone soft, but the words echo in my ears as if he’s shouted them. “Even though you _do_ talk too much,” he chuckles, and I do too. 


	11. Popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go home, Phil.

Satisfied he won’t run away if I try to leave, I nudge him with an elbow. 

“Popcorn?” I try not to get too excited when he doesn’t shy away from my arm, fully clothed though it is. There’s a brief pause, though, where he’s just staring at me, and I’m just staring back. My eyes flick back and forth between his, trying to determine whatever it is he’s thinking. 

But he only nods a moment later, then turns his attention to the hem of his shirt, tugging lightly at a fraying black thread. Because he’s not looking, I let myself have just _one quick scan_ of his entire body, from the black boots to his jean-covered thighs, across the partly-exposed expanses of his shoulders and finally up to his slightly messy curls. 

Then I exhale as I stand. _Why is he so pretty?_ I almost feel bad for sneaking peeks at him when he’s not aware, but it’s hardly fair for him to look so good and _not_ expect someone to notice. I’m so lost in thought - and maybe a little fantasizing - that I nearly run right into PJ on his way into the theater.

“Hey, earth to Phil?” He chuckles, waving the kids he’d been walking with on ahead. “Dude, you’ve been spacey all night, you good?” He’s already armed with a big bowl of popcorn, but he walks beside me as I head to the concession stand. I have to blink a couple times to clear my head.

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” guilt worms its way up my chest, “you’ve been running everything without me these past couple days, I’m the worst RA!” I frown at him, ducking my head as we pause behind a few other people in line. I nearly jump when a hand claps me on my shoulder.

“It’s _fine_ , you’re obviously smit- uh, _overwhelmed_ by all the new... _people_ ,” I glance sideways at him, blushing at the thinly veiled insinuation. _I am_ not _smitten,_ I want to shout at him. But he’d only take that as a confirmation, so I’m eternally grateful when the employee calls me up to take my order.

“Uh, just popcorn?” The hand on my shoulder disappears, and I vaguely hear a ‘see you in there, mate’; I blow out a puff of breath, then inhale the soothing scent of fresh popcorn. I’m back in the theater just as the lights go down, and I slow my pace to make sure I don’t trip and create a popcorn-splosion.

Fortunately, I make it back to my seat with the bag perfectly intact and pass it over to Dan just as the opening credits and theme tune begin. 

“You didn’t want any?” Dan’s voice is soft, and he’s leaned in extremely close to my ear; I can feel his breath on my neck, and I have to suppress a shiver.

“I’m _so_ full, I’ll just steal some of yours whenever I want it,” I say, focusing on the screen. If I turn, I’ll be eye to eye with Dan, and I don’t know if I can handle that. But he just scoffs, then pulls the popcorn further from me, balancing it between his legs. 

“Yeah right, it’s _all mine_ ,” he whispers back, just a little louder now that he’s no longer at my ear. I hold back a smile, then dart my hand out to grab a piece of popcorn from the bag. He doesn’t stop me in time, and I let my grin show full force as I toss it into my mouth triumphantly.

“Oi!” He nearly shouts, then clamps a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide. Then he squints as he pulls the bag entirely to his other side, so I’d have to reach fully across him to get to it. I purse my lips, fighting off another smile, and just shrug. _Wait, just ten more seconds and he won’t be expecting…_

I reach over, digging into the bag and managing to grab a handful before he shoves at my arm - only a few pieces are lost in the battle, flung across his lap and hitting the backs of the chairs in front of us. I let half the stolen popcorn fall into my mouth and give him another smug grin, to which he only gives a very deep frown. Which lasts about two seconds.

Then he’s back to covering his mouth, hiding a laugh and - unfortunately - that adorable dimple as well. 

“Stop it!” He manages to whisper-shout after a few seconds, when my arm snakes out again toward the bag. 

“I can’t control it! It’s been possessed, it demands popcorn!” I whisper back through my laughter, and there’s a very tense moment where it _feels_ like the world freezes but it doesn’t - apparently, Dan’s method of stopping me includes grabbing my hand in his. We’re both silent, still.

Then Dan pulls back, muttering some kind of apology that I don’t bother listening to. _Paralyzed again, but not really_ \- I pull my hand back, realizing that my freezing was fully brought on by shock, not by Dan’s touch. Well. Sort of still by Dan’s touch, but not because he froze me.

“Don’t apologize, I don’t mind,” I say just loud enough that he can hear. But he doesn’t respond again, just sets the popcorn between us and stares intently at the screen. I try to focus on the movie, but nerves wiggle around in my stomach like worms that can only be shut up with bites of popcorn.

\-------------------------------

The movie was fine - as good as Star Wars prequels get - but I kept worrying about Dan beside me. He hadn’t said a word the entire time after our brief popcorn battle, and he’s still silent as we exit the cinema and head back to campus.

“So how was it?” I feel like _someone_ has to break the awkward silence - he’s just walking along beside me, close but not too close, _never_ too close. My words must surprise him, because he looks over at me with raised brows, like he’d maybe just forgotten I was even there. _He probably did. I don’t think I could forget if he was nearby._

“Good,” he mumbles, looking back to the pavement. A moment later, his steps waver, and he drifts just a little closer. Just so our arms are brushing again, like they had before the movie. He’d been tipsy then, but I doubt he _still_ is.

“Good,” is somehow the only word I can come up with, mostly because my brain is very focused on my arm. Because I’m feeling brave, and maybe a little drunk on the idea of Dan, I arch my hand just a bit, just enough to graze the back of his. Then I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction.

Which is...basically nonexistent, or maybe I just hadn’t noticed it - he’s still just walking, still closer than before but making no move to be as close as I really want him. But he didn’t pull away either, which has to count for something, right? 

All my confidence has dried up for the evening, though, tossed at Dan in some silly hope that he’d suddenly admit some feelings for me. So we arrive at our building, our floor, then our rooms in complete silence. I don’t even know if it’s awkward anymore, or if it’s just...silence.

“See you tomorrow,” Dan’s voice sounds loud after so much quiet, and I whirl around from where I’d been fitting my key in the lock - but he’s already turned around, already pushing his own door open, already slipping inside. I watch the crack between the door and the frame slowly disappear.

“Good night,” I finally manage, once it’s clicked shut and I know he can’t hear me.


	12. Dan vs. Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no sufficient way of putting the chapter title in the actual voices of dnp trying to say that, so imagine it for me.

The next morning is an early one for PJ and I but not for the rest of the floor - we have quite a few plans to hash out, things to set up for the day, and some reports on the freshmen to complete - a mid-week assessment of how we think they’re adjusting.

I leave most of those to PJ, as I’ve had minimal interaction with everyone except Dan. Actually, he’d basically demanded to do them - pushing the setup for the day’s events onto me - after I had literally asked him about every single question for the first student I was working on.

“Peej, what would you rate Louise’s comfort with the rest of the freshmen in the group, like a four out of five, maybe?” It was only the third item of the evaluation. I had also needed help with her last name and room number.

“Five, and you really shouldn’t bother with that. Have you even spoken to her since the first day? Or any of the other freshmen?” I’d just spun around in my chair, mouth open with a response, when he held a hand up. “Dan doesn’t count.” So I’d grumbled and made some noise of protest, but ultimately relinquished every paper but Dan’s.

His is proving both easy and very hard - ‘ _How is the student getting along with other floormates?_ ’ He isn’t? He doesn’t interact with them? I scribble down a three. _‘Has this student shown any signs of homesickness?’_ Nope, that’s an easy one. He hasn’t, right? I think? ‘ _Has this student expressed any interests or hobbies to you?’_ This one catches me off guard - I think he likes Star Wars alright, and he doesn’t seem to be much into sport, but…

Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m out the door and knocking on Dan’s. When there’s no response, I frown. 

“Dan? It’s me? Phil?” My knocks slow, and I’m suddenly worried I screwed something up. _Or maybe he’s still sleeping?_ I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time. _It’s already one in the afternoon, surely he’s-_

“Phil?” I whirl around at the voice coming from down the hall, sucking in a breath when I recognize the half-naked form of Dan walking toward me. Because, of course, he’s clearly just gotten out of the shower. _At least I didn’t run straight into him this time._ “What’s up?”

Now he’s stood right in front of me, and I have to tell my eyes that they should _not_ be looking at him like that, no matter how the light is reflecting off his damp shoulders and chest, no matter how little droplets of water fall from his hair and collect in the dip of his collarbone. _Stop it!_

“Uh, sorry, I was just- I’ll let you, uh,” I finish, quite articulately, and hike a thumb over my shoulder. Then rush to fit my key into the lock of my door, missing three times, and finally getting the stupid thing in and turning it.

“Okay,” there’s a pause, “if you don’t have anything to do, I was just gonna play some video games for a bit, until that, uh, thing later?” My hand freezes on the doorknob, and I have to remind myself to breathe. “I mean, if you want to like, hang out?” His voice has turned soft, a little unsure.

“Yeah!” Air and words finally come back to me, and I turn to smile at him. And I’m once again hit with the fact that he is still very much half-naked - _technically fully naked, I mean, there’s a towel, but under-_

“Alright, just give me a minute to change?” Then he’s disappeared through his own door. As it inches closed, I catch the sight of a bare shoulder, then an arm, then they’re blocked by smooth pale wood.

Objectively, it’s not like I didn’t already see it, nor is an arm and shoulder all that big a deal, but seeing them while he’s _in his room_ feels far intimate in a way that I should not be allowed to see. I stand, debating the moral consequences of the few seconds of ‘spying’, for apparently long enough for Dan to re-emerge, fully clothed.

“Oh!” He stops, the door half open and his bare foot a step out into the hall. “You, uh, didn’t have to wait, but uh, come in?” His cheeks look pink, though it could just be from the residual warmth of the shower. He seems like a scalding-hot shower kind of person.

I follow him as he steps back, holding the door wide for me. Now that Dan’s not half naked, I’m able to focus on other things, like his room - which looks mostly how I expected, from my brief and dark stay the other night. I wander over to the stack of games he’s got set up beside his TV, stacking them in my hand as I go through each one.

“Anything catch your eye?” ‘ _You?_ ’ I’m very tempted to say, but I don’t.

“Classic arcade games?” I hold up the case, sporting several classic titles. “Were you even _alive_ when arcades were a thing?” He pouts, so I chuckle.

“Not like you’re much older,” he grumbles, snatching the case from me and popping it open. “I’d like to see you beat my high score at some Ms. Pacman.”

After inserting the disc, he tosses me a controller and flops heavily onto his bed, which is situated perfectly in front of the TV. I’m about to head toward the other bed, the one I’d slept in, when he scoots to one side. I must raise my eyebrows or make a face or something, because he rolls his eyes.

“If I let you sit over there and you lose, you’ll say you couldn’t see the TV well enough. And if I let you sit there and you _win_ , I’ll never hear the end of it,” he glances pointedly to the spot beside him. There’s lots of room, so I try to place myself as much in the middle of him and the headboard as I possibly can.

At first, I keep holding my breath, waiting for _something_ \- I can’t really figure out what, but my heart is racing. _Why am I freaking out, I’m just sat beside a cute guy, in his room, on his bed, playing video games, nothing unusual about that at all!_ Even the tone in my head is sarcastic. Plus it’s _Dan_ , who hated me so much he paralyzed me the first time we were alone. 

And now he wants to hang out with me. A grin splits my face, even though I just lost. 

“What’s that for, I beat you!” Dan’s actually whining about _winning_ , and it only makes my smile turn into a full-on laugh. “Stop it, you spork!” He’s trying not to give in, I can tell, but then he’s chuckling a moment later, and then we’re both lost in a complete laughing fit that has me doubled over, actual tears pricking my eyes.

It takes a minute, but we eventually calm down enough for Dan to shove me, and I glance up from where I’ve been staring at the duvet - it was meant to be playful, I think.

“Hey, why’d you do that!” I do my best fake-offended look, wide eyes and hand over my heart. Which just earns me another shove, plus a half-laugh from Dan. 

“You’re not supposed to be _happy_ when I win,” he takes to poking my side this time, and I let out a yelp that I very much wish I hadn’t. Because he pokes me again. “Oh dear, not a big fan of that, are you?” His tone has gone fully teasing, and I’m both terrified and excited by the way his lips curl into a mischievous grin.

Then he’s up and balanced on his knees, attacking me mercilessly, and I fall back onto the pillow and hold my arms and legs up to try to save myself from his onslaught. Also because I’m pretty sure I’m internally combusting, because _holy crap he’s actually touching me, and not apologizing for it!_

I don’t even mean to, but my hand finds his side, and I end up poking him back. And his reaction is _way_ better than mine had been - he nearly flings himself across the bed to get away, letting out something between a scream and a moan that is absolutely _not_ making me think in any kind of inappropriate way. I push up from the bed and reach toward him slowly, matching the wicked grin he had a minute ago.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” he backs himself against the wall, but he’s got his lips pressed together, curled just a bit at the corner in a way that says he’s half a second away from laughing. “I’ll freeze you, I swear,” he threatens, hands flying up to block mine from getting any closer; it doesn’t sound all that threatening, though, because he laughs through the whole sentence.

“Yeah, sure,” I scan his expression, though, in case he’s serious - he doesn’t look it, but the almost-smile falters a bit, so I pull back. “Doesn’t matter, though, you’re just saying that cause you’re scared I’ll beat you next time,” I shoot him an over-the-top cheesy smile, then grab both our controllers.

There’s a weird silence in the air, though, and I can feel it even as I extend Dan’s toward him.

“I shouldn’t have, uhm, said that,” he mumbles, taking the controller, “and thanks.” Another silence. 

“It’s fine,” I say, because it is. I wish he’d stop freaking out about it. “It’s just a thing you can do, it doesn’t bother me.” I hope he actually _hears_ that, instead of just-

No, he just hums beside me, already setting up the next match. I try not to sigh _too_ loudly, then push a smile to my face. He still kicks my butt at most of the games, and that seems to improve his mood a little.

I only glance over again when he pauses the game.

“Do you, uh, have anywhere to be?” I frown - _is that his way of saying he doesn’t want to hang out anymore?_ \- and then my eyes go wide.

“Oh god, the Olympics!” 


	13. The Olympics!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read the first sentence of the chapter. Anyway, Phil's perpetually late.

They’re not _actually_ the Olympics, but a huge inter-residential event team-building game we’d organized - okay, most of the more _experienced_ RAs had organized - to introduce our dorms and floors to all the others. It had been a huge undertaking to plan, and I’m sure PJ isn’t too happy with my lack of involvement.

Miraculously, I hadn’t had to actually convince Dan to come this time - he’s trailing behind me as I speed-walk across campus, late-but-not-technically since I was meant to be there early for some setup. 

“PJ might actually kill me,” I chuckle the words out, shaking my head. I’m sure to get an earful about this when I get there, or maybe once we’re back in our room. Either way, I won’t be living this down anytime soon.

We’re back on the same field we’d been playing capture the flag on at the beginning of the week, but it’s now decked out with colorful streamers and posters, and there are cones and ropes and various other pieces of equipment laid out for the ‘events’. PJ spots me and jogs over before I have to spend too long stood in place scanning the crowds.

“Phil, where- oh, hey Dan!” He enthuses, but I catch the barely-contained smile he throws my way. “The rest of our floor is over by the tug of war event, if you want to go watch our team, Phil is needed over...elsewhere,” he finishes, beaming at Dan and moving behind me to shove me toward a quieter part of the field.

“Please, I don’t want to-” PJ whirls me around before I can finish, eyes squinting as he searches my face for _something_. I’m not sure what he finds, but he blinks, nods, and holds up both hands, finally releasing his death grip on my shoulders.

“Say no more. I believe they’ve assigned us to the not-actually-beer-pong station,” he turns, and I stand, stunned, for a moment before rushing after him.

“I really am sorry, I was just with Dan and we lost track of time, and-” I try, but I get another hand.

“Mate, I do _not_ need to hear about your sex life. Just glad you’re happy.” Before I can protest that there was absolutely _nothing of the sort_ going on, thank you very much, he’s calling over the first two teams set to face off at the - I check the sign hung from the table - ‘Snowball Toss’ event. 

I spend the next hour picking up ping pong balls that fly across the grass - which ends up being kind of demanding, and I’m actually a little sweaty - then we’re given a short break before the ‘closing ceremony’. 

“Go find him,” are the first words I hear from PJ that aren’t related to the game, and I can feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. At least I can play it off as a symptom of my general unfitness and having to rush around after wayward ‘snowballs’. 

“Don’t even give me that look,” he chastises; I hadn’t realized there was a look, but I straighten my face into something more neutral. I hope. “You’ve been scanning the field ever since you two were separated,” PJ finishes with a laugh, grabbing a water bottle from the table and passing it over.

I guess I _had_ been distracted, but I was really just concerned about Dan - he doesn’t like to be around people, and the field is really crowded. I twist off the cap of the bottle, still lost in my head as I take a sip. The cold bite on my tongue and throat is refreshing, and motivating. _Okay, time to find Dan._

I take a few confident steps toward the center of the mass of students before realizing what a dumb idea that is - there’s _no way_ he’d be there. So I spin around, determined to scour the edges of the field instead. 

_If he’s even still here…_

I hadn’t even considered the possibility, since he’d been quick to accompany me on the rush down here, but what if he left? I’d sort of had to ditch him, and what if he just went back to his room? I couldn’t really blame him, but disappointment squirms in my stomach before I can stop it, and I stumble to a stop for a moment.

 _That’s not at all fair to Dan,_ my brain chastises, _you haven’t even properly looked for him yet._ I frown, taking another sip of water and continuing toward the edge of the field. For the first five minutes, I watch for any tall brunettes, inhaling sharply every time I notice someone vaguely Dan-like and exhaling the second I realize they aren’t him. 

“Phil?” I whirl around at the voice, unmistakably Dan’s, but frown when I don’t see him. _Am I going crazy?_

Then a hand waves, attached to a much smaller figure than I expected - _oh, he’s just sat down_. I giggle at myself. 

“Hey,” I grin at him as I approach, “sorry for leaving earlier.” Dan just shrugs, the phone he’d been staring down at disappearing into his pocket. His arms reach to wrap around his knees.

“‘S’not your fault, I made you late to begin with,” he’s focused on the grass beside him, so I situate myself in exactly that spot. Which makes him look up, chocolate brown eyes just a little wide and hidden under a fringe of fluffy curls.

“It’s not _your_ fault,” I counter, shrugging, “I was having fun and got distracted.” I think he’s just going to shake his head and play it off, but if I can be brave enough to say nice things like ‘ _I like you_ ’ and ‘ _I was having fun with you_ ’, maybe I can work my way up to something a bit scarier, like ‘ _you’re really pretty_ ’ and ‘ _I might like you as more than a friend_ ’. The way my stomach flips, it’s probably for the best to stick with the other stuff for now.

There’s a very loud silence for a while, then Dan just says ‘ _oh_ ’, like I said something really great, and my stomach flips over again. _I didn’t accidentally say any of that out loud, did I?_ My eyes drift away from Dan’s shoes to the grass and then across the field, trying to remember.

“So, uh, what’s after this?” His voice pulls me back, and I turn toward him, brows raised.

“After…?” He waves a hand at the field. “Oh! Oh, yeah, uh, let’s see, I’ll have to help with cleanup, but then nothing til after dinner. That’s the-”

“Right, the- what was it, hide and seek?” His tone turns teasing, an eyebrow arched up and a smirk tugging at his cheek, and I get a perfect glimpse of his dimple.

“Hide and seek, yeah,” I agree, a bit distracted. Dan just laughs, a harsh sound that only accents how silly he must think the idea is. “Oh come on,” I nudge him, immensely pleased that this seems to be a thing he’s growing comfortable with. “It’ll be fun!” He laughs again, but it’s more melodic this time. 

Instead of responding, he just leans against me - it’s only for a second, then he pulls back, like he’d meant it to be a reciprocation of my nudge, but my heart basically melts. _I have no idea why he trusts me so much, but I’m really really glad he does._

We end up sitting in silence for a minute before an uncomfortable squeal sounds from a microphone, and we’re both plugging our ears and grimacing at each other - apparently, they’ve started the ‘closing ceremony’, words coming through a loudspeaker but only reaching us as a garbled approximation of speech. 

I pretend to pay attention, and pretend I can understand what’s being said, and pretend I’m not focused completely on the boy right next to me; out of the corner of my eye, I can see he’s leaned forward, chin resting on his arms that are resting on his knees. He looks like he’s paying attention, or like he’s trying to, but his gaze seems a bit distant. 

_What’s going on in your head?_ It’s only once Dan actually turns toward me that I realize I’ve said the words out loud, and my eyes go wide. I can feel the heat creeping up my face, but I can’t look away. 

He’s silent, staring through squinted eyes and furrowed brows; after a moment, he must realize I was serious - which I _was_ , I just hadn’t meant to _say_ it - and his eyes go wider.

“Uh, I was...nothing, really,” he drops his gaze to the ground, and I watch his cheeks flush pink to match mine. A chorus of cheers drags my attention away, and I take a deep, loud breath as I watch the crowds disappear.

“Well, guess that’s my cue,” I push up from the grass, then brush my damp hands against my jeans. “I’ll see you later?” I ask, giving him an out if he wants it. He’s staring up at me from the ground, and I have the sudden urge to grab his hand and pull him up with me, right against my chest and press my lips to his. 

“For hide and seek?” He scoffs, eyes drifting to the side, and the fantasy is broken. I swallow thickly. Taking that as my answer, I spin around and try to bury my disappointment. _I thought it’d be fun! What if everyone else thinks it’s as silly as Dan does?_

“Yeah, alright, I _guess_ ,” I hear behind me, quiet and begrudging, but my face bursts into a grin anyway.


	14. A Childish Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, my dudes.

“Would you quit worrying?” PJ shakes his head beside me, arms crossed. “Look how excited they are!” A hand waved in the direction of the growing group of freshmen - plus a few of the older students - that’s congregated in front of the building.

“I guess,” I twist my lips, still a little unsure - it’s a bit of a childish game, sure, but I’d thought it might help anyone who’s homesick; like a little memory of their childhood at uni, to ‘bridge the gap’, as they put it at the RA training.

I scan the crowd one last time, then check my phone. Then frown. _Maybe Dan won’t actually show, he didn’t seem very into the idea to-_

“Hey,” I _swear_ he always finds a way to jumpscare me, somehow, and I have to clamp my lips together to stop the embarrassing yelp from escaping. I turn to find Dan stood just a bit behind me and PJ - PJ, who pats my back and heads off in the other direction. I want to shoot him a glare in response to the raised eyebrow he gives me, but then Dan’s there, and I’d much rather look at him.

“Hey, yourself,” I smile, just genuinely pleased he’s decided to come. Then PJ’s calling us all over, and I shuffle forward, just to the edge of the group - I don’t want Dan to feel uncomfortable getting too close to everyone.

“Alright! We have a few wonderful volunteers who will be doing the seeking,” he gestures to a group beside him, “you’ll go in pairs, and each of you will have to find…” he pauses, doing a quick tally of the number of remaining players, “five people. Boundaries are the main road to the edge of the field, from the southern end of the dorm and up to the union. Game ends in two hours if not everyone’s found. Good?” A chorus of nods and yeses.

“One other rule!” I chime in, when PJ’s arms go up like he’s about to dismiss everyone and start the game. “No going into buildings! And if you want to leave the game or give up, you have PJ’s number, text him and let him know so he can adjust numbers.” Even though it’s literally my _job_ , having everyone’s eyes suddenly glued to me makes me want to crawl into my bed and hide for a while.

“You heard the man! Now go, the seekers will wait here for seven minutes, then we’ll be off!” PJ’s paired himself with one of the freshman on the seeking team, and I’ve agreed to hiding. I already have a sneaking suspicion who I might be pairing myself off with. 

I mean to wait until the group has dispersed, heading off in their own directions to find good hiding spots, but there’s a hand tugging on my arm the moment we’ve been dismissed - Dan’s pulling me along, in the general direction of the field.

I chuckle as he slows, then drops his grip on my arm. I almost reach out, take his hand in mine, but that would be a bad idea. He can trust me, I need to preserve that trust, make sure he knows I won’t do anything to break it. No matter how much I like the comfort of his touch.

Which is objectively a strange thing to think, particularly about _his_ touch, but…

“Where are we going?” I need to halt that train of thought. “Have somewhere in mind?” I’m sort of whispering, even though we’re already pretty far from the dorm and there’s no way seven minutes have passed yet. 

“Well I figure they’ll start with the closer spots, where people are more likely to hide. Plus, the field isn’t very well-lit, so we’ll be harder to spot if we stay hidden by the trees, but we can keep an eye out for anyone who might be coming our way, they can’t sneak up on us,” he’s rambling, and I can’t help but smile. _He’s put a lot of thought into this, for someone who made it sound like such a silly idea_.

“That makes a lot of sense, good idea!” I say, because it _is_ and also because he’s getting really into it, and I want him to enjoy himself. It’s a game - it’s meant to be fun. When I glance over, he’s already looking at me, and his face scrunches up.

“What?” The light from the intermittent lamp posts is casting strange shadows across his face, deepening his frown and the crease between his eyebrows. “If you think it’s a bad idea, say so, cause I am _not_ about to lose,” he shoves his hands in his pockets, then drops his gaze to the pavement.

“No, no, it’s good, really!” 

“Then why were you staring like that?” Now it’s my turn to drop my eyes to the ground, warmth crawling up my cheeks. _Was I staring like_ that? _Or did he just think I was lying?_ I’m suddenly overly conscious of every movement, every expression. 

“No reason,” I mumble. “Oh! The field, should we go to the far corner, or would that be too obvious?” I point off toward a group of trees clustered at the edge of the field, right beside the road that marks the other barrier for the game. Fortunately, it has the intended effect of redirecting Dan’s attention.

“No, you’re right, too obvious. We’re tall, but not tall enough to pass for a bunch of trees,” he chuckles, and I join in, glad for the return of this easier conversation. “How about…” he stops, so I stop as well, trying to follow his gaze as it sweeps across the visible expanse of the tree line.

He must spot the same place I do, at the same time, because we both give little exclamations of ‘ _oh!_ ’ and point. Then burst out in a bubble of laughter that we quickly do our best to muffle with our hands, resuming our speed-walk to the tangle of bushes and shorter trees that should make a great hiding place.

“ _Surely_ it’ll be impossible to find us here,” Dan mutters once we’ve settled behind some of the thicker bushes. The ground is, fortunately, pretty dry, so we’re able to sit and scrunch ourselves up small enough that it would be hard to notice us even if it were the middle of the day.

As it stands, it’s already pitch-black out, and - as Dan had noted - there aren’t any nearby lamp posts to give away our position.

“It’s perfect!” I agree, “nice job,” I nudge him. The available space has left us squished against each other, shoulder to hip, which is both very exciting and a little nerve-wracking. _A lot nerve-wracking, actually_. But Dan seems too amped up by the game to really be worried about how close we are, adjusting the leaves and branches in front of us to get a better view of the pathways we’d used to get here.

“We should be able to see if anyone’s coming,” he nods, satisfied with his new peephole. Then he exhales and turns to me; his eyes go wide, and I can almost _see_ the exact moment he realizes how close we are. 

There’s a very quiet half-second where he’s just staring, following the line that connects us from our shoulders and down, then he leans away a bit. _Too close, got it._ I make a mental note, shifting myself so we’re not quite touching anymore. 

“So, uhm,” he clears his throat, “we just wait?” He frowns, reaching into his pocket before I can really answer. When his phone nearly blinds us both, he locks the screen in a rush, slapping a hand over his mouth as if that’ll somehow block the momentary brightness from escaping into the surrounding area.

We sit quietly, and I even hold my breath as we wait for any sounds - but it seems nobody’s nearby, nobody’s seen the bright light of Dan’s phone, and we’re safe for the time being.

“Okay, I guess we wait,” he affirms, sliding the offending device back into his pocket where it can’t cause any more harm. 

“Do you think fireflies know that their butts glow?” I blurt out, because there was a flash of light that was probably my eyes adjusting back to the darkness and _not_ a firefly, but it made me think of them. “Like, that it’s not something all other bugs do? But their butts glow?” I can already feel the blush on my face, and I’m incredibly glad that there’s no light around.

“What are you on about?” Dan barely gets the words out before he’s laughing into his hand, trying to keep silent, and then I’m doing the same. Before I can reign myself in, I’m leaned against him, because there’s more space and I also just want to be close to him. _I should not want that, not when he’s made it clear he doesn’t want me in his space._

But I can’t bring myself to pull back, so I wait for the inevitable shift or push or whatever he’s going to do to get away. A second passes, then another, then another, and there’s still no movement. My breathing has calmed a little from the laughter, but my heart is ready to start beating out my chest. _He hasn’t moved away_.

I finally dare a glance up, sucking in a breath when Dan’s nose is two inches from mine. And he _still_ hasn’t moved. 

And then everything’s molasses, thick and slow and strangely sweet. Because Dan’s moving now, and it isn’t away. He’s not moving away, and I don’t know if _I_ should - _but he’s moving closer, and this is exactly what I wanted, isn’t it?_ So I stay very still, watching his wide brown eyes as they flick between mine. I watch his lips part, just slightly, before they disappear because they’re too close and then- _oh._

Yeah, it’s exactly what I wanted, and my heart is pounding in my chest. His lips only brush mine for a moment, soft and warm, and then he nearly throws himself back toward the branches behind him, hands out to push me away.

I’m vaguely aware of some other sound coming into my ears, and I think that I should probably turn toward it, but I’m frozen, staring at Dan. He’s frozen me, again, but I’m not sure I mind. We could pick up right where we left off, he just has to touch me, to lean back in and-

“Hey, I found them! Those are our last two, right?” The voice is loud and sharp and cuts through the sticky slowness Dan and I had been in just a moment ago, but I still can’t turn. I wish I could blink or make a sound or _something_ to tell Dan to unfreeze me, but I’m very much stuck; I can hear footsteps, now, so they must be getting close.

At the very last possible second, Dan brushes a hand across my cheek - _of all the places…_ but I don’t have time to think about it. Then there’s a light shining down on us, and I’m taking deep, heavy breaths and bracing myself against the ground. I blink back tears when I look up, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person.

A normal person who did not just get kissed by the boy he’s crushing on. A normal person who did not just get _paralyzed_ by said boy. A normal person who should probably smile and say something to that boy, like ‘ _that was very nice, we should do it again sometime_ ’.

But I’ve never been any good at being normal.


	15. But wait, there's more...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. PJ is, once again, everyone's savior.

The entire walk back to the dorm is very very quiet and very _very_ awkward. Dan’s keeping his distance, and he won’t look up. And I can’t _say_ anything, because PJ and Louise - the freshman who he’d paired up with for seeking - are walking beside us and chattering about how they’ve definitely won and how not-sneaky our hiding spot was.

I try to respond with appropriately-timed nods and ‘ _mhm_ ’s and ‘ _yeah_ ’s, but all I can think about is warm lips on mine and a hand brushing my cheek and the way Dan’s eyes had looked the moment before he kissed me.

_Oh my god, he kissed me!_

A very badly-timed giggle erupts from my mouth, earning me strange glances from PJ and Louise and even Dan, but at least Dan’s actually _looked_ at me. 

_Later? We should probably talk?_ I try to say with my eyes, widening them and offering a small smile. Dan twists his lips, cheeks flushed bright pink even in the washed-out lighting from the lamp posts, but finally nods at me. Then he’s back to staring at the pavement; I’m just grinning. 

“You seem _pretty darn happy_ about losing, Phil,” PJ’s voice catches me off guard, tone full of teasing and words full of implications that I don’t even want to consider. I almost blurt out a too-eager ‘ _it’s not like that!_ ’ before I remember exactly how suspicious that would sound. And maybe it _wasn’t_ like that, but I sort of want it to be. If Dan does.

_Oh god, what if he thinks he’s made a mistake? Or what if that was a test and I failed, and he doesn’t trust me anymore or something?_

I’m suddenly reevaluating every moment I can remember, which is most of the moments and also none of them all at once - everything had happened really unexpectedly, but it had been so slow and careful...surely Dan wouldn’t have done something he was uncomfortable with? He’s proved more than capable of getting whatever he wants. _Does he want me?_

“Oi, earth to Phil?” A hand waves in front of my face, and my surroundings pour in - we’re outside the dorm, along with a few other freshmen milling around, and PJ’s just staring at me. 

“Uh, sorry, what? Got lost in my head,” I force a smile to my face - my brain is very tired from thinking.

“I said ‘are you gonna be good to set things up for the water war tomorrow’? Or will you be... _otherwise occupied_?” He waggles his brows at me, and my cheeks flush with heat. 

“Yeah, he will, and I’ll help as well,” my mouth had been open to respond, but Dan chimes in beside me before I get the chance. When I frown at him, he only gives me a quick glance, then turns back to PJ. “I’m off to bed,” he excuses himself, and PJ nods. I’ll admit, I watch him go, still unbelievably shocked that _he_ had been the one to kiss _me_.

Just before he pushes the door open, he throws a glance over his shoulder, brown eyes peeking up through thick lashes. Then he’s gone, and I manage to actually refocus on the conversation at hand.

“Right, uh, I- I mean, _we_ , we’ll take care of the setup,” I promise PJ, earning me a smile that looks a lot like he’s about to start laughing.

\---------------------

“Peej, what do I _do_?” I groan for the fifteenth time, rubbing the palms of my hands into my eyes until I see stars.

“What do you mean, what do you do?” I’d explained the whole thing - well, minus the paralyzing me bit - to PJ once we’d returned to our room. “He kissed you, you liked it, now go over there and kiss him back!” His voice sounds far away, though he’s only across the room. _Go over there? Kiss him?_

“But what if he-”

“Still, with the ‘what if’s? He gave you bloody _bedroom eyes_ down there, if you don’t go over right now I’ll just go drag him over here and make myself scarce,” I lift my hands from my face, blushing furiously. _Surely not bedroom eyes, I mean he barely knows me, and we only just sort of kissed, and-_

“If you’re not out of here in five seconds, I will make good on my threat,” PJ warns, swiveling in his chair to face me. His brows are furrowed, fully assuming his serious-business-PJ persona. With a sigh that ends up sounding more like a groan, I sit up and take a few hesitant steps toward the door.

“ _Four…_ ” he turns back to his computer, tapping and clicking away. “ _Three..._ don’t make me get to one, you don’t want to see angry PJ tonight,” he adds, which is enough motivation to get me out the door and into the hall.

 _Here goes…no, no way, I can’t do this._ Even as I lift my hand to knock on Dan’s door, I can feel my temporary resolve crumbling. No, it’ll be _way_ too awkward. Besides, he probably doesn’t even want to see me - I mean, really, _bedroom eyes_? PJ just sounds absurd.

“ _Two!_ ” I hear that absurd man’s voice as our door inches shut behind me, then drop my head back to stare at the ceiling. _Okay, okay, fine._ I give in, knocking twice. _I mean, maybe he’s asleep already, I should probably just go back-_

But the door swings wide, and Dan’s standing there, already changed into sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. Words freeze in my throat, even though he hasn’t touched me. _Oh god, I want him to, though._

“Oh!” He actually looks surprised, and I want to run and hide. _Of course he didn’t expect me, there was no ‘look’ earlier, I can’t believe I let PJ-_ “I wasn’t sure if you were, uh...if you-” he breaks off with a harsh laugh. “I guess we should probably talk or something,” he mumbles at the carpet; when he steps back, pulling the door open farther, I move inside. 

“Okay, before you say anything,” he starts in a rush, and I turn to find him still glaring at the floor. The door begins its slow journey shut. “I know I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry, and I _froze you_ on top of that, so I’m like... _triply_ sorry, because you couldn’t pull away even though I’m sure you wanted to and it was definitely my mistake because I _thought_ maybe you felt- but no, that was me just getting my hopes up, and-”

I lift his chin and cut him off with a kiss, pressing my lips to his the moment they’re parted in surprise. It’s a bit more forceful than our kiss had been earlier, but I need him to stop worrying and be quiet. Apparently, it does a very good job of accomplishing its goal, aside from a soft moan that he hums against my lips as his initial tension dissolves.

Then he’s practically on top of me, arms wrapping around my back as he presses my chest against his, then he grabs at my shirt, using it to spin me in some direction or other - frankly, I’m too lost in his lips to really know what’s going on anymore. 

When his hands find my chest, pushing me away, my stomach drops; _this is it, this was a mistake, he hates me now._ But his eyes are dark and sparkling, and he’s _grinning_ \- it starts as a shy smile, corners of his lips tugged up, but it turns wicked sharp the moment I return it. Then he’s pushing again, until I stumble backward and my leg connects with the edge of the bed.

I’m on my back a moment later, Dan’s knees on either side of my hips and hands still on my chest. They move slowly down, leaving trails of fire across my stomach, and I have to remind myself that, while I will gladly do _anything he wants_ right now, I don’t want to push _him_ too far. _He trusts me._

So I wait, and his fingers find the hem of my shirt. At first, I think he might want it off, and I prop myself up on my elbows, a hand already poised to pull it over my head - _god, I want to feel him against me_. But there’s a moment when he catches my eye, and his lips tug down - _no, don’t look like that even for a second._

So I let my arm move past my shirt, reaching for him instead. _We can go slow_. I want to shout it, want to say anything and everything that will keep him smiling like he had been a minute ago. _You can trust me, I promise._

A moment later, I’ve wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him down to me, bringing his lips to mine. I can feel the moment he relaxes, the soft, warm breath against my mouth that says he’s okay, this is okay. His hands find their confidence again, moving from my hips up and across my chest again, and I smile into the kiss.

There’s a minute of breathlessness - or maybe two? I lose track of time, too focused on the fire burning through every inch of my skin - before he sits up again; his fingers don’t drift any lower than my stomach, this time, but I barely notice. What I do pay attention to is the way his cheeks have turned pink, and how his lips are puffed as he bites the bottom one, and the way the movement makes my heart race. If it ever stopped.

“I, uh, should’ve asked before, but was that, uhm, okay?” His voice is low and a little raspy, and I can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Instead of a response, I laugh, staring up at the ceiling - my eyes need a break from trying to absorb how pretty he looks. When I finally look back to him, I push myself up so I can get closer. _I wish he’d stop pulling away like that._

“If I had wanted to stop, I would’ve said so,” I realize I’m a bit out of breath too, but Dan’s smiling at me now, so who can really blame me? He leans forward for a quick peck.

“Okay,” he mumbles against my lips, and I can’t help but laugh at how cheesy this whole thing is. “What?” Now he’s pulled back again, and I have to resist the urge to tackle him to the bed and kiss him every way I want to. _He trusts me, only what he’s comfortable with,_ I chant the reminder in my head.

“It’s cheesy,” I admit. “I didn’t think you liked me either,” I add when he furrows his brows. Then he sputters out a laugh that starts off quiet and embarrassed but quickly turns into a full-blown laughing fit. A moment later, he’s pushed me back to the bed and is giggling into my chest.

“Wow, and I thought I was being _too_ flirty,” his breath warms my shirt, and I rub a hand across his back.

“Nope, I’m just completely clueless,” I laugh, but I’m still super focused on the weight of him laying on me. _I could get used to this, I think_. It feels nice and warm, like home. Better than home. We lay in silence for a bit longer, until my eyes close because _it’ll be fine, they just need to rest for a bit._


	16. Whoops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A problem occurs, and Dan freaks out.

When I wake, it’s pitch black.

And, unfortunately, it has very little to do with the actual amount of light in the room.

I do my best to take calming breaths through my nose, focusing on what I can feel since my eyes are closed. 

There’s still a weight on my chest - I assume belonging to Dan - and it extends down to where my legs are dangling off the edge of the bed. After a quick confirmation that no, I can’t make anything move, I take another slow breath and try to decide what to do. 

My options, as it turns out, are very limited: I can’t speak or move, so I can’t really wake Dan - I’ll just have to wait for him to wake up on his own. Which could be a while, or it could be a minute. I’m not even sure how long we’ve been asleep.

In the hopes of keeping calm, I try to picture what everything would look like right now, if I could open my eyes. I’d probably see a patch of fluffy curls right in front of my nose, based on the way it tickles a little every time I inhale. I think he’s lying face-down on me, turned a bit so his breath warms a spot right on the side of my chest over my heart - _how appropriate_. I’d laugh if I could.

Just considering my predicament has my breathing speeding up, so I try to think about Dan. _Dan, who’s laying on my chest, probably has an arm tucked under him_ \- something sharp and elbow-ish digs into my stomach, which isn’t super comfortable but also isn’t the worst thing in the world. _Not like I can do much about it anyway_. 

_Okay, focus, focus._ At my hip, I can feel another hard pokey thing - _surely it’s not- no, no, that’s his knee, definitely his knee_. I would definitely be doing some nervous laughing right now if I could. At my other side, Dan’s opposite arm is most likely reached out, because I can feel the lightest brush of skin on my wrist that’s _probably_ his hand, and _probably_ the reason I’m in this situation to begin with. 

At that exact moment, there’s a shifting on my chest, and I hear a sleepy groan from a few inches below my chin. _Oh, it’s such a shame I’m missing this, I bet he looks adorable waking up._

“Phil?” His voice is low and raspy, and I could listen to him say my name like that on repeat for eternity. Except I’m a bit stuck. _Dan, please figure this out quickly!_ I shout into my head, as if he’d be able to hear me somehow.

More rustling, and I feel my arm fall from Dan’s back as he sits up - _interesting, so I’m not frozen, I just can’t move on my own._ I file that away, and apparently just in time.

“Oh my god, Phil, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” A hand cups my cheek, and my eyes fly open. It only takes them a moment to find Dan’s, two inches away and deer-in-headlights wide. “Please say something, Phil, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I should’ve-” 

Because it worked so well last time, I lean forward and shut him up with a kiss. 

It does _not_ work so well this time. My lips barely brush his before he’s pushing himself off me, standing and stepping back from the bed. I frown at the loss, feeling uncomfortably light without his weight on me. And cold, without his warmth. 

“Phil, this is serious! I froze you, you’re not supposed to just…” he trails off, sighing and dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t you get it? I could freeze you at any time, even on accident, and maybe not realize for ages!” He’s practically shouting now, and my lips twist as I glance to the door. I know these walls aren’t exactly thick.

“ _Why don’t you hate me?_ ” His voice drops to a whisper, and my ears are barely ready to pick up the soft tone after his loudness. But I hear him, and turn sharply back toward where he’s stood. For a moment, I just stare - _how could he ever think I hate him?_ I still barely know him, but I already know I couldn’t hate him. I let my eyeballs absorb his one pink cheek - from where it had been resting on my chest - his mussed up brown curls, his slight pout.

Then, instead of responding, I stand and wrap him in a tight hug. He wiggles a bit in my arms, but I don’t let go; finally, he just sighs and lets his own arms fall in a loose loop around my waist, lets his forehead rest against my shoulder. 

“Maybe…” his voice breaks the silence, chest rumbling against mine, “you should get some sleep?” I blow out a breath, wanting to protest, but... _if that’s what he wants. Whatever makes him comfortable._ He’s gone a bit shivery in my arms. 

“Okay,” I agree, doing my best to sound neutral. I don’t know if I do. “But I’ll be back bright and early, we have lots of setup to do!” Then I’m the one pulling back - I keep hoping he’ll protest, tug me back into the hug, but he doesn’t. So I press a kiss to his forehead, which has gone a bit crinkly from the way he’s staring at me, then turn toward the door.

“I mean, you could stay?” My hand freezes on the doorknob, warmth bubbling up in my chest and pushing its way to my cheeks in the form of a smile. “Just like...probably in the other bed,” he clarifies, but I can’t even bother to be disappointed anymore. “Since you’ll have to be here early anyway. But you can say no, if you want, that’s-”

“I’d like to stay, if that’s okay?” I turn around, cutting him off; his lips are parted, in the middle of whatever word he was about to say next, but he closes them and gives me a small smile in return. Then a sudden nod, like he’s just realized I asked a question. Well, sort of a question. “Do I get Totoro again?” I ask as he turns around.

“Or Pikachu, your choice,” he holds up both plushies, and I giggle. Then tap at my chin, frowning and scrunching my brows as if this might be the hardest decision I’ve ever made.

“Totoro looks fluffier,” I decide, and he tosses it onto the spare bed with a short laugh. Since it seems the blanket never left, I climb under it and adjust the plushie under my head. A moment later, the lights have flicked off, and I listen to the rustling of the duvet as Dan settles in his own bed. 

“Good night, Dan,” I say, my eyes already drifting shut.

“ _Good night, Phil_.” I don’t know if I dream it, I’m so tired that my brain is already halfway into unconsciousness when I hear a response, but I’m pretty sure I fall asleep with a smile on my face.


	17. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caffeine and sugar and a bit of teasing. Not like _that_.

When I wake up this time, I can actually open my eyes, so that’s good. What’s not so good is that I’m _awake_ , with an alarm blaring in my ear, just before nine in the morning. I squeeze my eyes shut again with a groan, feeling around for my phone. 

After a few more agonizing seconds, I manage to get it turned off, then I roll over and stare at the ceiling for a bit. Then a bit longer. It takes almost a full minute to realize why the view looks different.

Then the whole of last night crashes back into my head in a rush, and I nearly throw myself out of bed just to confirm I really am where I think I am - my sleepy body can’t really manage that, though, so I just end up stumbling to my feet with a yawn.

 _Two beds pushed against the wall, one of them occupied by a boy with fluffy brown curls, Totoro pillow on the other..._ I can’t fight the grin that battles its way up to my face in spite of the horribly early hour. Just to be sure it wasn’t a dream - and because we actually have things to do - I squat down beside Dan’s bed and poke him through the duvet.

“Dan,” another poke, “Dan, wake up!” He just grumbles, rolling away from my hand and closer to the wall. “ _Dan_ ,” I draw out the syllable, “you said you’d help! We have to go get things set up, come on! Plus I might die if I don’t get some coffee,” I poke him again. 

This time, he bats my hand away with a loud groan and a ‘ _quit it, Phil_ ’, so I do the only thing that comes to mind - well, the only thing I know will make him get up. We’re in his bedroom, there are a _lot_ of things that come to mind.

I tug his duvet off, and he scrunches reflexively into a ball.

“ _Phil!_ You are the _worst_ sort of person!” His eyes blink open, just a little, and he turns his head to squint at me. I think he’s trying to look mad or maybe a little menacing, but he mostly just looks cute and sleep-ruffled. When I grin, his lips puff out in a pout for a moment; finally, he makes a very frustrated sound and sits up, so I stand to get out of his way.

“Come on, sleepy head,” I try again, because he’s not yet moved except to rub a hand at his eye, “I’m tired too but we have stuff to do!” I poke his shoulder, which only earns me another narrow-eyed glare, but it gets him up and shuffling about his room, pulling out various shirts and pants from his wardrobe, inspecting them, then discarding them on the floor a moment later.

“Oh! I should go change as well,” I’m still in my clothes from last night - a pair of almost comfortable jeans and a t-shirt - and I bet my teeth could use some brushing as well. Even if I’ll be downing a coffee in less than ten minutes anyway. “Meet me in the hall in five?” Dan just hums at me, still sorting through his own clothing situation, so I let myself out.

PJ must be up already, as our room is empty when I push inside - I never understood how he could actually _want_ to be up so early. When the door finally clicks closed behind me, I pull my drawer open, digging around for a shirt I don’t mind getting wet, along with some shorts that shouldn’t be too uncomfortable once they’re inevitably soaked. 

I’m changed in under a minute, then back out the door and heading toward the bathroom. As I brush my teeth, I purposely drip a bit of water on the dark shorts, just to be sure there’s no obvious or awkward discoloration. When I’m finally feeling fresher and I’ve confirmed I won’t look like a complete idiot once the water fight starts, I head back to my room - PJ’s conveniently left me a list of the things that need to be done, so I stuff that in my pocket alongside my phone before returning to hall to wait for Dan.

A few agonizingly long moments drag by, filled mostly with mental encouragements to prevent myself from falling asleep standing up. The loudest of these is that Dan will be out here soon, and I very much like being with him, even in my exhausted state.

As if on cue, his door opens, and he steps out sporting black jeans and a black band t-shirt. 

“You won’t mind if those get wet?” I check, but he just yawns through a nod, so we set off. We walk in silence, the click of his door closing the only sound as we reach the end of the corridor. 

Dan drifts closer to me, but still keeps a space between us, and I wonder if it’s on purpose. _He_ was _really freaked out last night, after he froze me…_ my brain tries to consider this for awhile, as we push out of the building and turn the corner toward the coffee shop; it tries to think about if I should do something or say something, or if I should just let it be, and what he’d prefer I do and what I’d prefer to do, but I end up running around in circles in my head. _I need caffeine before I can even_ try _to deal with this._

Fortunately, it takes only about a minute to arrive at the coffee shop, and I pull the door open and hold it for Dan. Who just gives me a smirk and an eye roll, but doesn’t say a word. I get the feeling he doesn’t function well in the mornings, either.

The place is mostly empty, aside for a few early risers who have claimed corner tables and tap away at their laptops. I wonder briefly if they’re writers. _I wonder what they’re writing about._

“Phil, do you want something?” Dan’s voice still sounds a bit croaky from sleep, given we only just got up, and it draws me back to the task at hand: caffeine. 

“Uh, yeah, the...cinnamon latte?” I decide after a quick scan of the menu. The barista nods, reading out the total. Which sounds a bit high, until I realize Dan’s pulling out his wallet. _Is he…_

“I got it,” I chime in, fishing in my pocket for my own wallet. His brows scrunch together, lips parting like he’s about to argue. “No, I really got it,” I hand over a few bills to the barista, who’s got the most neutral, disinterested expression I’ve ever seen. Even if it is only nine in the morning. “You’re helping me set the stuff up,” I shrug, “let me thank you.”

Dan mumbles something in response, but the barista’s handing me back my change; I manage a quick thank you as I rush to put away the money, since there’s now another customer in line behind us.

“What was that?” I ask the moment Dan and I are alone, off on the other side of the shop to wait for our drinks. He’s leaned up against the wall, staring down at the ground with his arms crossed over his stomach.

“Hm? Oh, nothing, don’t worry about it,” he twists his lips, and his cheeks have turned pink. Or maybe it’s just from the bright orangey-red walls, it’s hard to say for sure. And I still haven’t had any caffeine, so my brain is working at half-speed.

Our drinks are set on the counter a moment later, and I decide to drop it - the last thing I want to do is push him, not after last night. We head out the door of the shop in silence, sipping at our drinks; Dan trails a bit behind me, obviously letting me take the lead, since I’m the one who knows where we’re going. _Wait…_

I stop abruptly, fishing around in my pocket for PJ’s list.

“Okay, hold on, first we have to stop by the gym, I guess Peej got some rental equipment from them?” I mumble, scanning the paper. Dan’s paused a few steps ahead of me, and he walks back to stand at my shoulder and read through the items as well.

“What, then the student engagement center for- Phil, I swear to god, if you _force_ me to get involved in this nonsense…” he steps back, and I suddenly realize how close he’d been - my side feels a bit chilly.

“You said you wouldn’t mind getting that wet!” I argue, already turned and heading off down another path toward the gym. He just scoffs, then takes another slow sip of his drink - what did he even get? I’d been so spaced out.

“Yeah, for helping you _set up_. You honestly don’t expect me to _participate,_ do you?” His tone is coated with sarcasm so thick that when I turn toward him, I’m shocked it’s not dripping from his tongue as he talks. Apparently, that’s not enough to satisfy him, because he catches me staring and opts to add an eye roll as well.

“It’ll be fun!” I nudge him, nerves prickling in my chest at my next thought. _I may as well just say it_. “I mean, you seemed to enjoy hide and seek a lot more than you expected to,” I trail off, making a point to focus on the path in front of us as I sip my own sugary drink. 

I try to hide my smile when Dan sputters beside me, but I only manage it for a few seconds. Then I have to turn, to see the aftermath: his eyebrows have arched up his forehead, lips parted like he’s trying to come up with some kind of response, and his cheeks are already a deep pink. If we weren’t walking, and if I was a little more confident about his comfort level right now, I’d definitely take the opportunity to kiss him.

_God, it’s been less than twenty-four hours and I already want to kiss him again so badly._

“ _Shut up_ ,” is all Dan finally gets out, eyes dropping to focus very intently on his drink. We walk in silence the rest of the way to the gym.


	18. Whiny Dan Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They actually get wet this time.

By the time we’ve collected all the equipment and dragged it down to the small grassy expanse the water war will be occurring on, I’m already a little sweaty. And Dan hasn’t stopped whining since we picked up the large buckets from the gym.

“ _Phil_ , how many more of these water balloons are we meant to fill up? This is taking _ages_.” I have to admit, I actually find whiny Dan very adorable - especially when he’s hunched over one of the massive buckets, face scrunched up as he focuses on the end of the water balloon he’s trying to tie. His lips are pursed in frustration, which I’ve noticed is one of the many things that makes his dimple stand out.

“Enough to fill both buckets, one for each team,” I remind him for the twelfth time, using the hose to fill the next water gun. He just groans, and then there’s a snap. 

By the time I look up less than a second later, he’s staring at his empty hands, mouth wide open and looking very much like someone just ruined his birthday. I frown, scanning him to figure out what’s got him so shocked; I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the laughter bubbling up when I notice the huge splotch of water across the front of his shirt.

“You alright there?” I ask around a chuckle; when he looks up, I’m a little surprised his mouth is so _huge_. _I could fit a_ lot _in there...stop. Focus._

“Do I _look_ okay?” His voice comes out higher than I expect, full of indignation as his eyes search the area for... “Did you not bring any towels? _Phil_ , _what am I supposed to do?_ ” He looks back down at his shirt, still utterly horrified. My laughter has died down to soft giggles, and I try to keep them that way as I drop the hose and walk over to Dan - I’m not sure what exactly I plan to do, as I really didn’t bring any towels, but he’s too adorably whiny to stay away from.

“Well, first, maybe close your mouth, or you’ll let all the bugs in,” I joke as I approach, and he looks up. His jaw stays on the floor, so I lift my hand carefully, slowly. _Stop me if you don’t want this,_ I hope I’m making it clear. Then my fingers are on his chin, lifting gently, and I can see the moment his jaw relaxes and he lets his mouth close.

Then it’s just his lips, still slightly parted, and my thumb runs across the lower one of its own accord - Dan’s eyes go wide, and I curse the movement, dropping my hand back to my side. _Too much, that was too much, I shouldn’t have-_

But then his lips are on mine, and I sort of forget how to think. I forget what I was thinking _about_ , and I forget why I even wanted to think in the first place. Why I wanted to do anything other than kiss him back.

Dan’s lips move slowly against mine, like he’s testing the waters for my reaction, so I reach around his back to pull him closer. It’s only once an icy cold sensation hits my stomach that I realize my mistake, sucking in a breath and pulling back purely on instinct.

_The water, from the- oh._ Dan’s stepped back now, farther than before, and he’s chewing at his lip, staring intently at the grass beside our feet. _No, no, that wasn’t you!_

“The water!” I practically shout, and he looks up abruptly. Wide brown eyes meet mine, then drift down to my shirt. Where I can feel a huge wet splotch has formed, courtesy of the matching one on his stomach. 

Then his lip curls up in a small smile, which turns into a grin, then he’s doubled over laughing and I can’t help but join in. _I don’t think I’ve laughed this much, this often with someone...ever_. It’s a sobering thought, and I take my moment of clarity to step in close, to wrap my arms around him. He stills immediately, lips barely two inches from mine. I entirely forget the wet patch on my shirt, on his.

“I thought-” he starts, but I cut him off, lips pressing to his before he can go on about how he thought he messed up, he thought I didn’t want it, and so on. _Please let me show you how much I want this, I want you, I want to be around you, with you._ I try to say it with my lips - well, with my lips but without speaking, and _wow this has become a horrible attempt at a descriptor so I’m just going to hope he gets the message._

After a few hesitant moments, Dan’s hands wind across my back and up to my shoulders. Then he’s pressed himself fully against my chest, the cold spot of water almost making me pull back again. But it warms quickly, along with the rest of my skin, and I let out a soft groan when his fingers find their way into my hair, gripping gently.

Dan breaks the kiss just long enough to let out a breathy laugh, but his eyes drift to a spot behind me and his cheeks flush as he ducks into my neck.

“Phil, we have _company_ ,” he mumbles, lips tickling my skin, and I would swear it’s freezing out for the shiver that goes down my spine. I wonder if his skin is as sensitive. I vow to find out, when we’re alone…

I spin around slowly, keeping one arm around Dan’s waist and hoping I’ve made my face into something more neutral and not so embarrassed. I don’t think there’s much to be done about the heat on my cheeks, though.

“Why did I have a feeling the prep wouldn’t get done if I left you two alone to do it?” PJ laughs as he walks across the grass toward us. I dare a glance down at the half-filled buckets - we really hadn’t gotten as much done as we’d hoped, but we’d actually been working most of the time. I scrunch my eyebrows at PJ.

“ _This guy_ ,” Dan chimes in, stepping forward and hiking a thumb over his shoulder at me, “apparently can’t get enough of me, I was _trying_ to get some work done, but…” he trails off with an overly-exasperated sigh and a shrug that screams ‘ _what can you do?_ ’. My mouth drops wide.

PJ just snorts, then picks up the hose I’d left in my haste to... _wow, I really can’t get enough of him, can I?_ Dan’s already back to filling water balloons, and I watch him for a moment. When he glances over his shoulder, it’s a smirk and a promise - ‘ _later_ ’ - and I huff out a breath that could almost be laughter.

I make my way over to Dan - I have no intention of staying away, it’s not like PJ hasn’t already made all his assumptions - and he hands me filled balloons that I tie off and toss into the buckets. We work in a comfortable silence, much more efficient now that we’re not...well, now that we’re actually _working_ ; it only takes another fifteen minutes to finish setting up.

By that point, the other freshmen have begun to gather, chatting in small groups as they wait for us to announce that we’re ready - I notice that most of them have been smart enough to wear swimsuits or swim trunks, a key item of clothing I’d totally forgotten at home when I first moved in. Because who needs swim trunks at uni?

“Alright everyone, we’re mixing up the teams from capture the flag, anyone with a room number ending in one through five, you’re on my team,” he gestures to the blue bucket sat across the field, full to the brim with water balloons and accompanied by several water guns. “Six through nine, plus zero, you’ll be on Phil’s team!” I wave, then head over to the red bucket nearer to the gathered group.

It’s only after I’ve left - and had the thought that something feels _absent_ \- that I realize Dan’s gone off to sit by the sidelines of the game. Game? Battle, event? It’s not really a game if nobody can win or lose - we hadn’t even tried to define rules, it’s meant to be more of a stress-relief activity, pelting your fellow students with water balloons. 

As the teams form up, I drift over to where he’s sat - my group is strategizing, even though there isn’t really an objective to aim for.

“Hey, you’re not playing?” I ask, as if I didn’t already know the answer. As if he wasn’t making it blatantly obvious by sitting off to the side and staring down at his phone. _Phone!_ I remove my own from my pocket, tossing it to the grass where it _should_ be safe.

“I told you I wasn’t,” Dan mumbles, not looking up from his screen. “Besides, I wouldn’t even be on your team,” he seems to think this is something to be embarrassed about saying, because he ducks his head even further, exhaling sharply.

“What, you don’t want the opportunity to drench me? Take out some anger?” I poke his shoulder once, then twice, then repeatedly until he’s shaking his head and pushing my hand away. I don’t miss the momentary grin that he tries to hide, though. Then I poke him a few more times, just for good measure.

“You know what, maybe I _do_ have some anger to get out,” he announces suddenly, setting his phone aside and standing. He offers a very mischievous grin, then marches off to join PJ’s group. I blink, wide-eyed and left only with the image of Dan’s evil smile, gears clearly whirring behind his eyes.

_What monster have I created…_


	19. Relentless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some fluff (you'll need it)

I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve it - except maybe being the most annoying person on the planet - but Dan is absolutely _relentless_.

He’s targeting only me, first with water balloons until he realizes his aim is pretty horrible. He has much more success with a water gun, and I end up trying to hide behind the half-empty bucket and failing miserably - within the first ten minutes, I’m soaked to the point that I’m actually dripping everywhere. 

And if Dan’s aim is bad, mine is ten times worse - the water balloons land unexploded in wide open spaces, five feet to the left of where I’d been trying to hit, and I’m only marginally better with a continuous-stream water gun. At least then I can move it and see where it’s going.

The fight starts off civil - if any fight can be called that - with each team staying a fair distance apart from the other and lobbing projectiles and shooting the farther range water weaponry, but it devolves quickly into a mess of squeezing water balloons over unsuspecting opponents’ heads and close-range water fire. The only thing my team seems to have going as an advantage over PJ’s is that a few of the freshmen have manned the hose and are using it as a super-weapon.

“Phil!” Someone shouts, and I turn to find a wide-eyed Louise pointing behind me. Sure of my imminent doom, I spin around on the slippery grass only to be confronted with wide brown eyes and dripping chocolate curls. 

There are some other people, too - I vaguely recognize PJ and one of the other freshmen - but my eyes lock on Dan’s: he’s sporting that same wicked grin he had on earlier, and hoisting the massive blue bucket over my head. I only have a few seconds to stare, eyes and mouth both wide with shock, before a deluge washes over my head and cascades down my body.

\---------------------

“I’d say we won,” PJ laughs, clapping me on the shoulder - it makes a wet smacking sound, and I roll my shoulders to get rid of the weird feeling that accompanies it. Everyone’s gathered in the lounge, chatting and laughing with towels slung around necks and hanging from waists. We’re far from dry, but we’re no longer dripping, and everyone has enough common sense to stay off the furniture until they’ve changed.

 _Speaking of which_ …

“Yeah, yeah, you won, Peej, nicely done,” I joke, “now if you don’t mind, I have chafing going on in some _very_ uncomfortable places, and I’d like to be a little less wet than I am right now,” I glance down at my shirt, sticking tightly to my chest, and pull it until it disconnects with a sucking sound.

PJ looks like he’s about to respond, mouth hung half open, before he shuts it and grins, then spins around to join in some conversation or other. I can’t even imagine - I’m already physically uncomfortable, adding the social discomfort on top of that would be _way_ too much.

When I turn toward our room, I nearly run smack into Dan, who’s stood so close that our noses would’ve touched if he hadn’t stepped back. I almost wish he hadn’t.

“Oh!” I start, “I was just about to change, but did you-” I break off when his head dips down a bit, and he’s staring up through those thick lashes. Then he’s biting his lip, and I almost miss when he actually starts speaking.

“I could, uhm, help with that?” It’s so soft and hesitant that I have to actually think twice about his words. They are not nearly as innocent as his tone would suggest. And I don’t have to be asked twice; I barely nod before his hand is intertwined with mine and he’s tugging me toward his room. _Thank god he doesn’t have a roommate_.

The fingers of his free hand fumble for a moment with the key before fitting it in the lock, turning it, and stepping inside. I follow in behind him; he has me pushed up against the wall before the door’s even shut. _Those doors do take a while to close, though_ , my dazed brain chimes in just before Dan’s lips crash into mine.

Then there’s nothing, not for several minutes of his hands dragging across my chest and mine gripping his hips and both of us getting very warm despite the chill clinging to our wet clothes.

“ _Off_ ,” Dan breathes, only breaking away long enough to tug at the hem of my soaked shirt before pressing his lips back to mine. I’m quick to comply, getting the thing off all the way to my shoulders as his hands slide up my sides, trailing across the damp skin. Now I shiver, and it’s got little to do with the sudden lack of clothing.

I have to push him back again to get my shirt over my head, and he actually _whines_ at me, pouting as I finally free myself of the clinging fabric only to be attacked by a much more clingy _Dan_. I wouldn’t even think to complain, though.

My hands find their way back to his hips, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin just under the top of his jeans - I’m trying to take it slow, let him decide if he wants things to change. _Whatever you want_. There’s a moment when he pauses, then, and I’m about to move my hands, but he beats me to it.

He’s a step away from me, then, hands at my wrists at his sides. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, it’s-” I stop when he frowns, brows furrowing and crinkling his forehead. 

“What are you-? No, no, I just-” then he breaks off, shaking his head and huffing out a breath. His hands stay at my wrists, holding them to his hips as he walks backward toward the bed. 

“Oh,” my eyebrows lift, eyes going wide as he collapses onto the mattress, tugging me down with him. I move my hands at the last second, letting them catch my weight on the bed instead of his waist. He gives me no time to react, reaching up and tangling a hand into my hair to pull me back down to his lips.

I swerve at the last second, which earns me another whine and a tug at my hair - it’s way hotter than I expect it to be, and I file that away for later - but I’m intent on exploring every single piece of Dan that I can. 

I start with his jaw, since it’s closest, and work my way down to his neck. When he lets out a soft moan, I pull back - he’s been mostly noisy so far, with heavy, fast breaths and whines and the few words he’s managed to get out between kisses, but I decide I _very_ much like the sound of his moans.

Unfortunately, he seems to have decided that he doesn’t, as his free hand has flown up to his mouth, and his eyes have gone wide. I stare at him for a long moment - flushed cheeks, dark brown hair curled across his forehead, hand expertly blocking what I’ve decided is one of my favorite features. I pull it away.

“You sound very pretty,” I say, because it’s honest, “please don’t ever think you have to hide things from me?” I mean it about the moan, of course, but everything else too. _You can trust me,_ I want him to know that down to his bones. _I promise, nothing you can do will ever scare me away._

It’s such a profound statement - even though it’s in my head - and so _true_ that I get lost in the enormity of it for a moment. But Dan nods, and my eyes refocus, and I grin at him.

Then I take my revenge for his relentlessness earlier, attacking his neck with the same level of intensity he’d attacked me during the water fight. His skin is soft and smooth and perfectly unblemished, but I make an effort to leave it a splotchy reddish-pink mess. _This is your payback._

And, if the sounds coming from his mouth are anything to go by, he’s enjoying it. _I’m enjoying it, too_. I grin against his neck, flicking my tongue out to soothe the spot at his collarbone I’d just been biting at. Apparently, he’s very into it, enough that his hips roll up to grind against mine - then _I’m_ the one trying to hold back a noise.

Suddenly, everything stops - _Dan_ stops, going completely silent and no longer squirming under me. He sucks in a breath, and I feel his chest expand to brush against mine.

“Was that okay?” I say as I pull back, my first reaction to make sure he’s alright - that I didn’t do anything he was uncomfortable with. He’s just staring, wide-eyed, and I would swear he’s just a picture except then he blinks, exhales, his gaze drifts down to where his hand picks at the duvet.

“I mean, yeah, sorry, I got a bit, uhm, carried away…” his cheeks flush red, accenting the marks I’ve left on his neck. _I’m glad it’s not winter yet._ The idea of being able to see those places I’d claimed him on clear display is...it’s _something_.

 _Wait, he’s apologizing?_ I huff out a laugh, leaning down to press my lips to his - nothing intense, just a simple, quick kiss.

“Don’t apologize, trust me, I very much want this,” I assure him; he just breathes out a soft ‘ _oh_ ’, and then he’s smiling, lips tight against my mouth as he tries to resume the kiss; our teeth clack together, though, and we both just end up laughing into the small space between us.

After a moment of empty but pleasant silence, Dan frowns.

“Should we, uh…” he tugs at the sleeve of his shirt, still damp and clinging to his chest. _Get you out of those clothes? Absolutely._

“Get into something dry? Probably, yeah,” I chuckle, shifting myself over him and off the bed. _I wish we didn’t have to, though...I mean, wait, why do we even have to? We don’t have anywhere…_

“Oh!” I shout at the realization, then slap a hand over my own mouth - Dan jumps, whirling around and shaking his head at me. “Sorry! We just have the scavenger hunt soon!” I mumble from behind my hand, earning me an eye roll to go along with the ‘ _what is wrong with you?_ ’ look.

“Another silly event you plan on dragging me along to, I suppose?” There’s laughter under his words, though, so I just grin in response.


	20. It’s all good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're good, I'm good, we're good, everything's great, everything is _just fine_.

“A _napkin_ from any fast food restaurant? And it has to have a logo?” Dan reads from the scavenger hunt list - we’re still stood just outside the dorm, as he’d insisted on coming up with a plan for where we should go.

“Dan, we’re wasting time!” I’m bouncing on my toes, watching the last of the other teams as they disappear around the corner, already headed toward the downtown area, where we’ll find most of our required items.

“Do you think it’ll be easier to start on the west side,” he points at a few of the items on the list, but I’m not really paying attention, “and get these, or start by the train station and work our way over?” I watch impatiently as his eyes flick across the page again. “No, maybe-” 

I grab his hand before he can keep debating it, dragging him off toward the west end of town - I’d seen fewer people head this way. _Like ten years ago, when everyone left!_

It’s already dark, as we’d had to shift the day’s events around to make time to clean up from the water war - it had gone on longer than we’d expected - so the scavenger hunt had been postponed until after dinner. I march us along under the street lamps lighting the pavement, watching as they cast funny shadows on Dan. He’s still frowning down at the list, seeming unbothered by my need to keep us moving.

“Wait,” he stops abruptly, and my hand tugs loose from his. “Are you sure this is the best place to start? Won’t it be better if we go-”

“ _Dan_ ,” I move behind him, pushing his shoulders until he stumbles forward, “if we don’t ever get started, it won’t matter _where_ we start!” He’s still pushing back, leaning against my hands and staring down at the list.

“Okay, what if we…oh!” His head whips up and he turns, making me lose my balance and pitch forward. I barely manage to catch myself before taking an embarrassing tumble, then frown over at Dan - he’s turned toward an alley, one that leads between a few tall buildings and over to a more popular street.

“Come on, we’re wasting time!” He announces, rushing forward - he holds the list up like a map, glancing between it and the other end of the dimly lit back street, and I sigh before jogging to catch up.

I’m only a few steps behind him when a shape bursts from the darkness and snakes around Dan - for a minute, I _swear_ it’s an actual giant snake, until I see a flash of something metallic and sharp.

“ _Don’t fucking move_!” The demon thing growls - _no, not a demon, that’s a person, I think_. My brain doesn’t want to process what’s happening. It wants to jump back to ten seconds ago, when it was just a little exasperated with Dan but mostly fond. When it was happy and everything was good.

My eyeballs start adjusting to the darkness in the alley, and I can finally make out more than vague outlines: a tall, lanky guy has Dan by the shoulder, holding a knife - _holy hell, a knife?_ \- so close to his neck that I’m shocked it hasn’t already broken skin. _A dull knife._ The thought does nothing to stop my reaction.

Which, admittedly, is probably the worst one I could have.

“No!” I yell, leaping forward, arm extended - the guy just drags Dan back a few steps, pressing the blade deeper - still no cut, from what I can tell, but Dan swallows and his throat pulses dangerously against the silvery edge. I freeze instantly.

“I said _don’t fucking move,_ ” the man hisses, glancing down at his fist, clenched tightly around the handle of the weapon. My body and brain are _screaming_ at me to move, to attack or run or do _something_ , but there’s a _knife_. _Dan is_ _not safe._

“ _Please_ ,” I try, quieter - my heart is in my throat, so the word is forced out on a shaky breath. “Don’t hurt him, I- whatever you want, _anything_ you want,” I can feel tears pricking at my eyes, and my gaze drifts up from where it had been trying to will the knife away from Dan’s neck. _God, what I wouldn’t give for some kind of telekinetic-_

My eyes go wide, and I suck in a breath. _I don’t even need telekinesis, just some telepathy...Dan, please please_ please _understand_. I stare hard into his eyes, trying to convey my idea.

I’m really glad he chooses to _narrow_ his eyes, then, because I don’t think they’d have gone any wider, and I wouldn’t have noticed that he understood what I was trying to tell him. _Oh my god please hurry up_ , I plead, breathing going shallower by the second. My eyes shift back down to the blade.

“ _Give me-_ ” the gruff voice cuts off a second later, though it doesn’t look like anything’s changed. Then Dan’s shoving the unmoving hand away from his neck, stumbling forward and collapsing onto his knees on the hard pavement.

I rush forward - somehow thinking I might catch him - but he’s beat me to the ground, so I just drop down in front of him. There’s a tense moment where he’s deathly still, and I’m not sure if I should give him space or hug him, but he makes the decision for me.

Arms wrap around my neck, accompanied by a warm, shaking body, and I pull him as close as I can. 

“Oh god, oh _god,_ Phil, I almost-” he cuts off, sucking in a deep breath. Instead of words, he chokes out a sob, burying his head in my shoulder. I kind of want to break down as well - I don’t think I’ve _ever_ been more terrified in my life - but...Dan must be even _more_ terrified. _You’re safe, you’re okay, it’s fine, you’re fine._ I chant it over and over in my head, until I realize I’m saying it out loud as well.

We stay that way for...I don’t know how long, but long enough for Dan’s breathing to sort of go back to normal, or something close to it, and he leans back to sit on his heels. 

“What…” his voice comes out thick and clogged, and he clears his throat. “What do we _do_?” He asks, words raspy now; I just blink at him - _you’re okay, you’re alright, you’re-_ my thoughts evaporate when I notice the thin trail of something dark at his neck. I reach out on instinct.

My finger comes away red.

“Dan, you didn’t say he-” I shuffle closer, and his hand flies up to his throat. He winces the moment he hits the cut, then stares at his own fingers for a moment. “Come here,” I tilt his chin up so I can get a better view - the cut isn’t really bleeding anymore, it’s just a thin line of red. A terrifying reminder of what just happened.

“It’s okay,” I say, mostly because I just need to hear the words. _It’s okay, you’re okay, everything is fine, you’re alright..._ Dan’s eyes - still a little watery and definitely rimmed red from the tears - lock on mine. “It is, it’s stopped bleeding, just don’t move too much until-”

Sometimes, I wonder if he’s just hell-bent on being contrary.

He whips around before I can finish, and I’m _sure_ that’ll open the cut, but he’s intent on the frozen figure who’d attacked him. In fact, he scrambles to his feet and nearly sprints back over to the man, coming to a stop less than a foot away. I stand, but approach much more cautiously. _What if this guy has superpowers and can break free of the paralysis?_

“What do we do?” Dan asks again, taking slow steps around the guy, carefully avoiding where his elbow juts out from when he’d been gripping Dan’s shoulder. I keep my distance, and I’m very tempted to grab Dan and pull him back with me. _Please please don’t do anything that might get you hurt. Again_. I wince at the thought; my heart aches just _knowing_ he’s already been hurt.

“We should get you back to the dorm-” I say, but Dan’s already walking back toward me, then past me, and back the way we came. I spin around. “Wait, uh, well, I mean, we should get you back, but-”

He turns, then, framed by the streetlight and the walls of the buildings lining the alley. I can’t really make out any of his features aside from the fresh drop of blood against his pale skin as it makes its way down his throat, only stopping once it’s absorbed into the collar of his shirt. 

“We can’t just...leave him?” I try - _wouldn’t that be, I don’t know, murder-adjacent? Leaving him paralyzed forever?_ The thought sends a shiver up my spine.

“Phil, he tried to _kill_ me,” Dan’s voice is sharper than the blade had been. 

“We can’t just-” I start, but he beats me to it.

“I know,” a deep sigh, then he’s walking back toward me. “We can’t just leave him. Can you find, I don’t know, something heavy?” When he passes me, his shoulders have slumped, and everything looks paler than it had before. 

“Hey,” I place a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face me. I tilt his chin again, sure that his cut has been gushing blood or something with how white his skin is, but it’s already stopped. Then I let my gaze flick back and forth between his eyes - they’re maybe a little wider than usual but otherwise normal. “Are you okay?” I ask, then realize what a stupid question it is.

“No,” is the only answer I get, harsh and cold, and I wince when he tugs his chin from my grip. “Here, help me with this,” he gestures to the dumpster at the end of the alley. With a frown, I follow him, then we’re both grunting with effort as we push the thing toward the man. 

By the time we’ve managed to get him pinned to the nearest wall, we’re huffing and puffing, and a sheen of sweat has broken out across Dan’s forehead - he’s still ghostly pale, and the extra exertion makes it look like he’s ill.

“Can you find a bottle or something?” Dan asks, eyes fixed on the man. His arm is bent awkwardly, crushed against his chest - it doesn’t look like we’ve injured him, but that can’t be comfortable. _Why do I care? He hurt Dan._

“A bottle?” I ask, but he’s already back over where we moved the dumpster from. I watch him, frowning; I don’t think he’s looked at me since he agreed we had to unfreeze the guy. Even when he turns back around, weilding a very rotten-looking piece of wood, he’s fully focused on his task.

Which I don’t figure out until he’s swinging the plank at the man’s head, and it knocks back against the wall with a thud. The sound makes my stomach churn, and my eyes go wide.

“Dan, did you just-” 

“He’s alive,” Dan says flatly, and I notice his fingers come back from the man’s throat - he must’ve just been checking for a pulse. “I don’t want him to wake up anytime soon.” I think it’s meant to be an explanation, but all that’s in my head for several long moments is Dan swinging at the guy’s head: there hadn’t been a ton of force behind it - he’s not hench or anything - but it was the detached, unfocused look in his eyes that I can’t unsee.

When his fingers brush the guy’s arm, I hold my breath, but there’s nothing aside from a strangled groan as he slumps against the dumpster holding him up. Dan turns stiffly, not even acknowledging me as he heads back down the alley toward the street.

We walk back to the dorm slowly, in absolute silence. For once, I’m entirely at a loss for words.


	21. Things are Never Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Phil have a conversation.

The moment we’d returned, Dan had disappeared into his room without a word. I’d just stood outside his door and watched it close - he didn’t turn the lights on, didn’t move or lay down or do anything aside from stand deathly still, facing the opposite wall, as it inched shut.

So I’m back in my room, but it feels empty and quiet - too quiet, after all the quietness from our walk back. For a minute, I just sit in it and try very very hard to process everything that just happened.

 _Dan had almost...and then he was going to leave the guy...and then..._ I sigh, because it’s too much. I have my own story in my head of what happened, but Dan has one too, and I can’t - _shouldn’t_ \- jump to any conclusions before I hear it. It isn’t fair.

It’s late, and I feel like I should sleep, but I know I won’t be able to. And I don’t want to - I refuse to go to sleep on an argument. Or...whatever this is. But we hadn’t left on good terms. And, more importantly, I need to make sure Dan’s okay.

I take a big, deep breath, then stand and make my way back over to my door. I’m already out in the hall and knocking on Dan’s before mine even clicks shut.

“Dan? Can we talk?” I decide to only knock once, because I don’t want to annoy him. At least I can be sure he’s the only one I’d be bothering, with everyone else out still scavenger-hunting.

I wait for a minute, listening for any sounds on the other side. _Please open up?_ By the time another minute has passed, I’m bouncing on my toes. _Maybe I should just knock again-_

“ _You’re still out there, aren’t you?_ ” The voice startles me - it’s muffled by the thick wood of the door but most definitely belongs to Dan. I nod, then realize my mistake.

“Yes,” I answer, staring at the doorknob. Waiting for it to turn. And waiting. 

It doesn’t.

“ _And you’re not leaving._ ” It’s not a question. My lip curls up in a half-smile. 

“No, I’m not. I think...maybe we should talk?” I try again. The knob continues to not turn. _I wonder if Dan can paralyze inanimate objects? But then how would we know, since they’re already inanimate?_ My brain spirals down into a hole in the silence.

Then there’s a soft thump, and I squint at the door. _Did he throw something?_

“ _We can talk, but I can’t-_ ” a pause, “ _you can’t come in._ ” His voice has gone so soft I can barely hear it, but I definitely understood - it feels like a hand is squeezing my heart in my chest.

“Okay,” I agree, because what else can I do? I can’t _make_ him let me in. At least we can talk. I lower myself - rather ungracefully - to the floor, leaning back against the door so I can hear him better. When my head rests back on the wood, it makes a hollow thump that sounds familiar, and I realize Dan must be sitting the same way on the other side. _We must look like a very cliche scene in a film._

“ _You wanted to talk?_ ” Dan’s voice - louder, now that I’m as close as I can get - seems a bit too light, like we’re about to have a chat about the _unusually warm weather we’re having today, don’t you think?_

“Right, uhm,” suddenly, words evaporate from my brain. _I had wanted to talk? What- oh._ Then it’s flooded with a thousand different questions - what happened? Why had he reacted that way? When had he been cut- 

“Are you alright?” I finally decide - I feel bad that it hadn’t been my original reason for coming over, but his safety is the priority here, everything else can wait. “You rushed off before I could help you clean and bandage the cut, and...I mean, I want to make sure you’re _okay_ , as well.” I don’t know if I can actually say ‘ _you must be terrified and I want you to feel safe, how do I help?_ ’

“ _The cut is fine. I’m fine._ ” I can practically hear how _not fine_ he is just from the flatness in his tone, even muffled through the door. My arms wrap around my knees, wishing they were Dan, because he sounds like he needs a hug.

“Are you sure? I know that had to be-”

“ _Yes, jesus christ, I’m fine, okay? Why do you never stop talking?_ ” I flinch away from the wood, which is actually _vibrating_ with how loud Dan’s gotten. And then he’s quiet again.

“ _Why do you care?_ ” When he says it, my heart actually breaks in my chest.

“Please let me in?” I turn so I’m facing where I imagine Dan’s head to be, frowning. If I can just talk to _him_ instead of a piece of wood, if I can just _see_ him, maybe I’ll know what to say. There’s a heavy sigh, loud enough that I can actually hear it.

“ _Will you leave after?_ ” 

“Sure,” I agree. If that’s what he wants. I hope he doesn’t. 

Finally, _finally_ the doorknob turns above my head, and I shift away from the door just as it opens. Then Dan is standing over me, frowning down at my spot on the floor. For half a second, I swear the corner of his lip quirks up, like there’s _almost_ a smile there, but then it’s gone. Seeing the dimple on his cheek is bittersweet - it’s adorable, but not in this context. Not with the wet streaks from tears on his cheeks, reflecting the light from the hallway. Not with the thin, angry red line on his neck. Not with the way he jerks back the moment I stand up.

“Alright, can you go now?” Without the door muffling his words, it’s painfully obvious how shaky his voice is. I wonder if he thinks the same, because his frown deepens and his gaze drops to the floor.

“You said I could come in?” I try - if he pushes it, I’ll leave him be. I don’t _want_ to, but I will, if that’s what he wants. But not without a little effort. _I don’t think he wants to be left alone right now, not really._

His eyes narrow, and I’m expecting a protest, but he just exhales and steps back, pulling it wide for me. Once I’m inside, door drifting shut behind me, Dan goes over to stand by his desk and stares at me. Just stares.

I wish I could see what was going on in his head, because a few seconds later, fresh tears are spilling from his eyes and dripping down his chin onto the carpet - he hasn’t moved, barely makes a sound, but he lifts his hands to his face, rubbing angrily at his eyes. ‘ _I did not give you permission!_ ’ I imagine him shouting in his head at the wayward tears.

When he sniffles and looks up, his face has scrunched up in a way that makes it look like he’d just done _exactly_ that. I have to fight off a very poorly-timed smile. 

“What?” His voice breaks on the word - apparently, I hadn’t hidden it as well as I’d meant to. I shake my head, dismissing it. I came over to talk, but I’m now much more concerned about his well-being than sorting out what happened.

“Can I hug you?” I ask, stepping forward - I don’t mean to, but I’m definitely treating him like a scared puppy. To be fair, he looks like one, with the way his eyes go wide, but they start to drift around the room a second later.

“I guess- oh!” My arms are around him the moment I have permission, squeezing tight but not too tight. At first, he’s absolutely still, then tentative hands find their way to my back - just resting there, not really pulling me closer, but it’s enough.

Apparently, I’ve opened the floodgates again, because it feels like we’re back in the alley - Dan’s head drops to my shoulder, fresh tears fall, and he’s near-sobbing into my neck. I rub my hand across his back in what I hope is a soothing motion, but it’s hard to tell if it’s helping.

We don’t move for a few more minutes, then Dan’s pulling back, sniffling again and scrubbing at his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again - I’m worried he’s going to tell me to leave. _If that’s what he wants..._ I inhale, preparing for disappointment in spite of the little bit of hope that keeps growing.

“You should go,” he whispers, voice still uneven and a little raspy. _Oh._ A part of me had actually thought he’d change his mind. “I’m not-” when his words waver, he takes a deep breath. “It’s not safe. For you, I mean. To be...around me.” Then his arms wrap around his stomach, and his shoulders hunch over - apparently, his feet have just become _extremely_ interesting.

It takes me a solid ten seconds to actually process what he’s just said. _Not safe?_

“Dan-” 

“No, no, Phil,” his voice is surer now, clearer. He actually looks up to meet my eyes. “It’s obvious I can’t control myself. I thought I could, but...and then even when I _can_ ,” now his gaze turns harsh, and he lets out a scoff, “apparently, my first instinct is to just leave someone to _die_ , what does that say about me?” _Oh._

The words cut through the air like a knife, and then _he_ cuts through the room, shifting as he passes me so there’s a very noticeable wall of air between us. The door creaks open behind me before I can even turn.

“It’s...you should go,” he says again, as soft as before, but more committed this time. My mouth opens - he looks so defeated, resigned, and I want to say _something_ \- but he shakes his head. Just slightly, but it’s enough. ‘ _Please, don’t_ ’, it says, so I fight every instinct in my body and clamp my mouth shut. A door has never looked so uninviting.

I don’t know what happens next, because Dan’s hidden behind the slowly closing door, but there’s a choked sound from inside the room just as it clicks shut. I wish I could blame it on the door.


	22. Slurp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and PJ have a chat, Dan and Phil have a (?)chat, and nobody really sleeps well except PJ.

I don’t sleep, and not for lack of trying - my head is spinning with everything Dan’s said, implying that he _isn’t_ safe to be around. _Is that just his fear talking, though?_ For the seventeenth time, I run through the events of the night before, though I skip over the terrifying image of the knife at Dan’s throat. 

_Surely he’s not dangerous, not really, not when he changed his mind about leaving the guy frozen._ But the moment he’d stood there, silhouetted by the street light, that determination he’d had to simply walk away...it’s still a little frightening. _Nerves. It’s just nerves_ , I tell myself - he’d been nervous at the time, unsure how to handle it, and I’m nervous now, still amped up on adrenaline.

I stare up at the springs of PJ’s bunk, following the blurry swirls with my eyes - I’ve at least had the common sense to take out my contacts, in case I manage to fall asleep. _As if that’s going to happen, now._ The light seeping in under the blinds of the window makes the rusted metal look brown, and if I squint, it almost looks like the curls I’d run my fingers through earlier today. No, yesterday. I sigh.

Instead of laying in bed for an indefinite amount of time, attempting to trick my brain into sleeping, I shove off my duvet and sit up in bed. PJ had come in later last night, slipping into the room quietly. I think he thought I’d been asleep. I didn’t correct him. _He’d have wanted to talk, and what would I have said?_ Even now, I can’t find any words.

Because he’s still sleeping - it’s early, even for him - I fumble in the greyish light for my glasses and slip out into the hall. Dan’s name - well, _Daniel_ \- stares back at me from the door across from ours. I take a step forward, sorely tempted to knock, but catch myself at the last second. _He wanted me to leave him be. I should respect that._ Turning away feels a lot like fighting my way through a field of cactuses, painful and sharp and not something I ever want to do again.

I’d desperately hoped that a shower might help wake me up, but standing under the hot water only makes me feel worse - I want to turn time back to when I was dousing Dan with a water gun, when he was pelting me with water balloons, when his lips were on mine and he wasn’t afraid to touch me and he wasn’t afraid _for_ me.

I don’t get out of the shower until the water turns cold, and I have to quickly rinse my hair out. Icy water cascades down my body, a painful reminder of the bucket of water dumped over my head not twenty-four hours ago. And the adorable, mischievous grin that accompanied my attacker. I exhale a sigh as I towel off, hoping PJ’s awake by the time I return. I need a distraction.

 _No, I need a Dan,_ my brain says. I try to ignore it.

\--------------------------------

“Alright, what’s wrong?” PJ’s voice startles me out of my head, where I’ve apparently been focused for the past- _how long has it been?_ I look around, surprised to find we’re almost at the coffee shop. Then an elbow nudges me, and I turn.

“It’s, uh, it’s nothing,” I mumble, eyes going distant as I wonder how Dan’s doing. _Is he still upset? Does he still think it’s not safe for me to be around him?_ Is _it unsafe?_ I’m suddenly reminded of PJ’s request earlier in the week - that if Dan was dangerous, I needed to tell him. Nerves squirm in my stomach like tiny snakes.

PJ pushes through the door to the coffee place, holding it open behind him as I stumble over the threshold. Apparently, my sleep-deprived brain is having trouble focusing on more than one thing at a time. Other than speaking to place our orders, we’re both completely silent, and I’m almost grateful PJ’s let the subject drop. _Maybe now I can shove that concern to the back of my mind-_

“Alright, what’s going on? Is it Dan?” _No such luck_ , I huff a breath as I sit down - I should’ve known PJ wouldn’t let me off that easy. _But I can’t give away Dan’s secret! He trusts me - trusted me?_ I frown at the past tense as it runs through my head _._

My face must give something away, because PJ tilts his head and purses his lips. Then he takes a sip of his definitely-too-hot green tea and squints at me from across the table.

“Do you like him?” He asks, as if he hasn’t been teasing me about it all week. As if he hadn’t caught us kissing. As if it wasn’t, I’m sure, incredibly obvious. I nod. “And he likes you,” it’s not a question, but I nod again, a little more hesitantly. _He does, right?_ A sudden wave of doubt rushes at me, but PJ’s talking again and my brain doesn’t have time to listen _and_ worry. “You’ll figure it out,” he says, taking another sip from his tea. 

I sip experimentally at my coffee, but it burns my tongue. 

\-------------------------------

 _We’ll ‘figure it out’?_ Even two hours later, gathering up all the freshmen for another meeting with their academic advisors, I can’t get PJ’s words out of my head. _It’s not that simple, surely?_ But I want it to be. I hope Dan does, too. 

It’s hard to tell, though - I spot him coming out of his room just as we’re all leaving, and I manage to catch his eye when he looks up, but then he’s ducked his head and he makes a point of staying at the back of the group. With a sigh, I stay toward the middle, nodding and smiling along with some conversation that I’m not actually paying attention to. _He looks tired._

Nearly as tired as I feel, with the morning’s caffeine and sugar already beginning to wear off. I drag my feet, only half out of exhaustion. It’s not long before I’m walking beside Dan, though we’re not exactly _close_. Because he’s still staring at his feet, I clear my throat - his head flies up, eyes wide, before he notices it’s me. Then there’s this...deflation, where he exhales and his shoulders slump and his eyes drift shut. 

“ _Please_ don’t look at me like that,” he almost whispers, and my eyebrows arch up my forehead. Then furrow.

“Like what?” I resist the urge to drift closer. To wrap an arm around him as we walk. To press a kiss to the side of his head, because he should be smiling and I bet I could make him. Instead, he turns fully towards me and frowns. I curse the dimple in his cheek. _You shouldn’t be there unless he’s happy!_

“Like _that_ ,” he sighs and tilts his head at me, but I just twist my lips. _I hadn’t been looking any special way, had I?_ _Am I?_ I try to fix my expression into something more neutral. _Why can’t this be easy, why can’t we just…’figure it out’?_

We walk in silence for a minute, and I try to focus on the pavement. And the trees around us. And the sky. On anything but Dan. 

“It’s not going to work, you know,” he says out of nowhere, and I’ve lost my game of trying to keep my eyes off him. There’s almost a smirk on his lips, but a sort of detached, sad one. Like he’s trying to make a joke, but even he doesn’t find it funny. His gaze falls back to his feet the moment I meet it, and he chews at his lip. 

It takes me a moment to remember that he’s said words, and that they had some kind of meaning, but my brain finally puts it together. To form a very intelligent ‘ _what?_ ’ that would astound even the most brilliant minds.

“Your whole…” Dan trails off, waving a hand at me, “thing. It won’t work,” I frown at him, at a complete loss. _My what now?_

“I’m not-”

“No, don’t,” he holds up the hand, now, then side-steps so we’re even farther apart as we walk. “Look, I had...I thought a lot about this, about…” again, he trails off, glances over at me, then drops his eyes back to the pavement. “About _us_ , and we- I mean, I can’t-” now he sighs, footsteps slowing. “There can’t _be_ an ‘us’, it just…I can’t hurt you.” 

When he looks up this time, his eyes are stone and his lips are pressed into a tight line. I don’t get the chance to respond, because then he’s taking fast strides toward the front of the group, and my feet aren’t prepared to catch up. By the time I make it into the building behind the rest of the freshmen, he’s already waiting over by Melanie along with the other students in his advising group.


	23. Worst That Could Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay it's not the _worst_ that could happen.

It takes until we’re stood in the hilariously decked-out dining hall that I realize the squeezing in my chest and the pit in my stomach have decided to stick around for a while - in fact, it’s the candied pineapples I’ve been snacking on for the past ten minutes that finally bring me to the conclusion that sugar is not going to fix whatever’s wrong with me.

I grab one more sweet for the road, then wander around the open area, passing under fake palm trees and ducking to avoid dangling strands of tropical flowers. Each dining hall has a theme today - both the decorations and the food - and I’ve been set to man the luau one. Which, according to the student engagement office, requires that I wear a tacky flower-print shirt and a lei. 

I’m already scratching at the back of my neck, the plasticky material making me uncomfortably itchy. I’m just pulling the darn thing over my head - _surely they won’t care_ that _much_ \- when a hand lands on my shoulder.

“Alright, in the spirit!” PJ cackles, and I turn to find at least twelve leis layered around his neck. His eyes are just as bright and his voice is just as loud as his shirt, and I’m finding it even harder to deal with since I’m running on zero hours of sleep. I grin at him anyway.

“Yeah,” I chuckle, hoping to cover the flat tone in my voice. “So, uh, when are people supposed to start-”

I’m cut off by the opening of doors, and a group of freshmen wander in - they aren’t from our dorm, that much I recognize, so I don’t feel bad about turning back toward PJ after giving them what I hope is a bright smile. _Maybe PJ will let me-_

“Why don’t you stay here, by the front, and welcome everyone?” Sometimes, I swear he can read minds or something. Most days, I’m not sure he’s entirely human. _Alien PJ, that would be cool._ He says something else before walking away, but I’ve already turned my attention back to the doors at the front of the dining hall.

\--------------------------------

It’s not til nearly the end of dinner that I spot him - brown fluffy curls, head ducked down and trying to sneak in behind a group of other freshmen from our floor. By this point, I’ve already stuffed my face with little glazed pork kebabs, conveniently situated right next to the entrance. I’m just trying to decide whether to head back over to the fruit when I catch Dan’s eye.

His frown and quickly-averted gaze say just how much he wishes I _hadn’t_ noticed him. 

With a sigh, I watch him ‘sneak’ around to the other side of the buffet, He doesn’t look my way again until he’s toting a full plate toward an empty table in the back corner of the dining hall - once he does, though, I offer a small smile that definitely has nothing to do with the blush that I notice creeping up his cheeks. He just presses his lips into a line, but I figure that has to be better than a frown at least.

I’m about to lean back against the counter, resigning myself to stare at the entrance and munch on whatever happens to be nearby until we’re dismissed, but a voice is calling my name from the same direction as the corner Dan had tucked himself away in. Suffice to say, my eyes find Dan’s before I realize it’s not him calling my name.

“ _Phil_ , get over here! I have a major ice cream emergency!” PJ’s shouting, and I finally drag my gaze away from Dan to find a frantic-looking bright mess loaded down with several cones of precariously-balanced ice cream. 

I rush over, grabbing two of the cones just as they’re about to topple to the ground, and PJ mocks wiping his brow with one of his now-free hands. 

“You’re a _literal_ lifesaver, Phil, thanks mate!” He grins at me, but the smile turns a little strange toward the end of the sentence. “Would you mind, uh, helping me pass these out?” He gestures at the tables behind me, full of students already toting cones. I nod absently, scanning for anyone who seems ice-cream-less, only to find there’s exactly _one_ such table.

With exactly _one_ such Dan, staring down at his empty plate. 

I roll my eyes at PJ, who’s just grinning at me. When I don’t immediately move, he reaches forward with two ice-creams, like he’s about to shove them into my back and push me toward the table, so I jump forward with a squeak and weave my way through the other tables as quickly as I can.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, shuffling my feet as I stand in front of Dan. Who seems very determined not to look up. “PJ might literally attack me with ice cream if I don’t, uh, give you this,” I try, sticking an ice cream out toward him. I make sure not to get too close.

“I don’t want any,” Dan’s still just staring at the table in front of him, so I shake my head.

“You sure? I mean, it’s coconut ice cream,” I wiggle the cone for half a second before I realize how likely I am to make the top scoop fall off. Dan seems dead-set on not reacting. “Everyone likes ice cream!” I argue, then grin when an idea pops into my head.

Instead of arguing, I use my foot to pull out the chair across from him and plop down. Because I have a spare, I lick at the ice cream in my right hand, watching Dan carefully. He still won’t look up, though at least he’s now made it look like he has a reason for it - his phone has found its way out of his pocket and into his hand, and I try not to grin at the dimple his frowning has carved into his cheek.

But my interest doesn’t last long, because he’s being stubborn, so I start to make some...noises. General food-appreciation noises. Which may or may not sound...well, I start to make them for exactly the reaction I get a moment later. Which is Dan _finally_ lifting his head, even if it’s just to stare, wide-eyed, at me licking my ice cream. I _may_ be doing it a little suggestively. 

It’s worth it to see the way Dan’s mouth has dropped open, but I just beam at him. I have to stop a full laughing fit when his cheeks actually turn red, and he glances around to see if anyone else has noticed what’s going on. 

“ _Phil!_ ” He whisper-shouts, after making sure nobody’s too close. “What are you _doing_?” He’s leaned across the table, and I want to reach out and cup his cheek, maybe poke the ever-present dimple now that he’s pursed his lips again, but my hands are a bit full.

“It’s _good_!” I enthuse, sticking the other cone in his face. “Come on, at least try it! What’s the worst that could happen?” I argue, which I think sounds like an okay thing to say, but he squints at me and leans back in his chair. Then he’s glaring at the ice cream. Then he’s up and headed for the door before I have time to work out what I’ve said wrong.


	24. Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe things are better this way (isn't that always the hardest thing to say?)

I stand in a rush, refusing to let him run away this time. _If I said something wrong, I definitely want to make sure I don’t say it again!_ I rack my brain as I speed-walk to the door, past a very wide-eyed PJ. My steps falter when he frowns at me, and I skid halfway to a stop, balancing the ice creams carefully.

“What are you stopping for? Go get him!” PJ nearly shouts at my hesitation, and I shoot what I hope is a grateful look over my shoulder as I shove the door open with my arm. 

I find Dan already heading back to the dorms, across the street, and have to kind of jog just to catch up. By the time I’ve reached him, we’re already at the doors, and I’m embarrassingly out of breath. 

“Wait! Wait,” I gasp out, and Dan actually turns around. Thankfully.

“I said I didn’t want any fucking ice cream!” He nearly shouts, shoving at the door angrily and stomping inside. I catch the door with an elbow, frowning at my incapacitated - and slightly sticky - hands. The dripping cones find their way into the nearest trash can, and I lick my thumb as I follow Dan.

“No ice cream!” I promise, and he whips his head around to glare at me through narrowed eyes. I hold up my empty hands, as if it wasn’t obvious they no longer held the offending cones.

Apparently, this must satisfy him, because he shifts on his feet to fully face me, though his hand still rests on the doorknob to the stairs. After a beat of silence, he lifts a single brow - something I have _never_ been able to master - and waves a hand at me. I can practically _hear_ the sarcasm in his unsaid ‘ _get on with it, then_ ’.

“I just-” I fumble. _What did I want to say again?_ “I, uh...did I say something? Something wrong?” This earns me a deeper frown from Dan, and I twist my lips. I hate that dimple, sometimes. _No, I hate that it shows up when he’s sad as well as happy._

“‘ _What could possibly go wrong?_ ’” He mocks, throwing air quotes around the words. I’m not sure if that’s _exactly_ what I said, but clearly the _meaning_ is what he has a problem with. “Can you just _stop_ already? I’m not changing my mind,” he grumbles, then pulls the door to the stairs open, marching up to our floor. 

Words tumble around in my head, trying to sort themselves into some kind of order as I follow him. By the time I reach the end of our hall, he’s already in his room, but his door is still drifting shut. Cautiously, I stick a hand out to stop it from closing all the way.

“Dan?” I peek inside to find him sat on his bed, head cradled in his hands. He doesn’t look up, so I take a step in, then another, then another. I don’t dare sit beside him, but I figure the other bed is safe enough. Springs groan under me. “Whatever you think I meant, I...I didn’t,” I say, watching him from the corner of my eye for any reaction.

There isn’t one, not for a while, and I start to wonder if I’ve gone and screwed everything up. Somehow. _Though I still have no idea what I’ve done._

Then there’s a heavy sigh, and Dan actually lifts his head slightly. His eyes slide sideways, and I catch a flash of brown aimed my way before he flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling.

“We can’t…” he squeezes his eyes shut, and I just watch. Watch the dimple that indents his cheek as he frowns, watch the bob of his adams apple as he swallows whatever words he’d been about to say, watch the way his eyes flutter back open, a little harder than they’d looked before.

“We can’t, uhm, _touch_ ,” he glances my way for a second, and I get to watch his cheeks turn pink. “But...friends?” It’s so quiet I almost don’t hear it, but then the offer hits my ears and suddenly the air’s been sucked out of the room. _Can I handle that? Knowing we feel the way we do, and ignoring it?_ I take a deep, slow breath, then let it out in a puff of air.

“Of course,” I turn and give him a soft smile, because what else can I do? If he’s uncomfortable with anything other than friendship, I’m not going to push him. For a moment, his face falls, and I wonder if I’ve yet _again_ said something wrong without realizing.

But then he’s sitting up, just barely smiling back, and I decide not to worry about it too much. It seems like such a silly thing, to worry, when I’m around Dan. _How could I ever-_

“Can I, uh, ask a question?” I say into the silence. At first, he just squints at me, then raises his eyebrows. I get the vibe of ‘ _go on, then_ ’ mixed with a hearty helping of ‘ _that_ was _a question_ ’, but I choose to focus on the former. There’s a long minute where the words sit on the tip of my tongue, trying to make it out of my mouth, but it takes a force of willpower to ask.

“Would you really have left him?” I finally blurt out; Dan’s eyes go wide, but then he huffs out a breath.

“No, I don’t think I would’ve,” he admits, sounding resigned. _Is that a bad thing?_ “A part of me wanted to, sure,” he’s waving a hand in the air, then standing from the bed. When he starts to pace the room in front of me, I wonder if he hasn’t gone over this explanation in his head a thousand times already.

“I mean, Phil,” he fixes me with a hard gaze, fingers floating up to his neck, “he tried to…” there’s a pause. “But no, I think even if I left him then, I’d have come back later,” he nods, like he’s confirming his own thoughts. I stay still and silent, waiting for him to finish. “I’m not...I don’t _think_ I’m a bad person,” frowning as he argues with nobody, “but it _was_ my first instinct. Maybe I just wanted him to suffer for a while, and then I’d have come back, if I was alone.” He’s watching the ceiling now, and I follow his dizzying progress around the room - he’s decided to start walking in circles. 

When his pause turns into a full span of quietness - though he’s still pacing - I stand and position myself in his path. I want _so badly_ to just reach out and pull him into a hug, kiss his forehead and tell him that it’s okay, I’m not afraid, I understand. But I can’t do all of that, so I settle for words.

“Dan,” as I hoped, his feet falter, and he stops in front of me. “You’re _not_ a bad person, period. You were scared and hurt and you had every right to be angry,” I try not to focus on his lips as he chews the bottom one, gaze drifting to the carpet. I want to reach out and lift his chin so he’s looking at me. But I can’t.

“Instinctual reactions aren’t everything,” I push on, hoping he’ll look up on his own. “It’s how you react _to_ those reactions that matters, that says who you are as a person.” Now he’s staring at me through those long lashes, and I swear my heart skips a beat. I cough out a laugh, hoping it’ll distract me from how much my heart hurts.

“Besides, if we all did everything our gut instinct said to do, the world would be a _very_ different place,” I give him a half smile. _If I did everything on a whim, I’d have you on the bed under me in ten seconds flat._ The thought sends a shiver up my spine, and I do my best to push the thought away. _I need to avoid thinking like that, Dan’s not comfortable with us being more than friends. He deserves to have me respect that._

It’s not everything, but he nods at my words, and a little flare of hope bursts in my chest. With Dan, I’ll take whatever I can get.


	25. Yoshi vs Luigi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's okay being just friends.

When I wake up, I feel more rested than I have in weeks - first, stressing about the RA training, then the _actual_ RA training, and now everything that’s been happening this week... _it’s a miracle I haven’t fallen asleep in the middle of some event or other_. 

The room is completely silent around me, and when I stand, I realize PJ must already be up. Today’s a free day for everyone, though there are various suggested activities to encourage the freshmen to socialize and get familiar with the campus and downtown area.

Even just _thinking_ about going downtown makes my lips tug down in a frown, and I set myself to trying to decide which of the _very safe, non-dangerous, on-campus_ activities I might want to do today. _I wonder what Dan- oh._

My hand rests heavily on the pile of t-shirts I’d been digging through, the events of last night bubbling up in my memory. Then I exhale, trying to push them all away. _Dan just wants to be friends, he doesn’t want us to touch, that’s okay. I’m okay with that._ I spend my entire shower trying to make the words sound good in my head.

 _Really, though_ , I argue with myself, _it’s not like I would be_ un _happy being just friends_. That’s a true statement, I decide, finally dressed and pushing out of my room and into the hallway. _I would just be_ more _happy if we were...well,_ more _._

As I reach the end of the hall, I pause and tilt my head - something feels...off? I can’t place it, not til there’s a click behind me and loud footsteps as someone calls my name.

“Phil?” I recognize it’s Dan before I even turn around, a grin spreading across my face the moment I see him. He’s got an oversized grey sweater on, one where the arms are so long that they go past his hands, and he’s giving me a sheepish smile that makes his dimple stand out.

“Hey, Dan,” I say, glad for some kind of normalcy between us. He comes to a stop in front of me, a little farther away than I’d like. _Everything aside from literally in my arms is farther than I’d like, though_. “What’s up?” I have to push past my own hopes, though. Dan deserves to be happy, too. _If just being friends would make him happy, I can handle that._

“Sorry, I sort of poked my head into your room, I saw the door closing…” he hikes a thumb over his shoulder, and I blink once before realizing that the sound of my door clicking shut - or, I guess, the _lack_ of sound - is what had felt so odd a minute ago. “Where are you headed?” 

I doubt I’ll ever, in a million years, get sick of watching the flush creep up Dan’s cheeks. It’s like watching a drop of ink disperse in water in one of those cool aesthetic videos on instagram. Then he ducks his head, confirming his embarrassment.

“I was off to grab some coffee, wanna come?” I offer, giddy at the prospect of us - even as friends - being sort of normal. I have to admit, I’m a little surprised when Dan nods. _He does really still want to be friends._ A part of me had been worried he’d just said that as a way to get rid of me, or let me down easy. 

But Dan falls in step beside me - not too close - as we take the familiar path between our dorm and the coffee shop. There’s a pang in my chest remembering the last time we were here together, and the whole rollercoaster of events before and after - looking back, it had felt a little like the eye of a hurricane. I wonder if this calm is a signal of more storm to come, or if the bad weather has passed.

“So,” I break the silence, desperate for something that’ll keep me from thinking too hard. “Have you decided if you’ll do any of the activities today?” Dan looks up from where he’d been staring studiously at the pavement, frowning at me.

“Wait, they’re optional?” Somehow, my tired brain was not expecting that answer, and I laugh before I can stop myself. Which seems to only confuse Dan even more, and I shake my head, holding the door to the coffee shop open for him.

Much like the last time, he gives me a sideways glance before stepping inside. Although, this time, I feel like it’s saying ‘ _you’re not supposed to do that_ ’ instead of ‘ _you really didn’t have to do that_ ’. But then we’re inside and placing our orders and I don’t have to think about it for too long.

“Well,” Dan announces as he leads me to a table in the corner, “if they’re optional, then I plan on doing exactly…” he draws out the last syllable, squinting at the ceiling as he sits. “Right, _none_ of them!” He beams at me, taking the lid off his coffee to let it cool faster.

I hadn’t actually planned on staying in the coffee shop, but I’m also not about to say no to spending some time with Dan. I’m glad he seems more comfortable, smiling and joking as if the past few days hadn’t happened. 

_But they did, there’s the proof_. The neck of Dan’s sweater tugs down as he tips his drink back to take a sip, revealing the fierce red line interrupting the perfect, smooth skin of his neck. I must make a face - _I_ really _need to work on controlling my expressions_ \- because Dan pauses mid-sip and ducks his head, pulling the collar of his sweater up to cover the mark.

“It’s ugly, isn’t it,” he scoffs. My lips had been parted, wanting to say _something_ but not sure what exactly, but he beats me to it. At least it makes choosing my words easier.

“It’s not,” I shake my head for emphasis. “It’s just a part of you, of who you are. And I like who you are, so it’s not ugly,” I shrug, doing my best to pretend I’m only talking about the healing cut, then take a sip of my drink. It’s still far too hot, but it seemed like the right thing to do, so I ignore the burn.

I’m expecting Dan to deny it, or to laugh it off as a joke, or do anything to minimize what I said - do _just friends_ say things like that? But he only hums, dropping his gaze to the table and his own coffee.

\--------------------------

I wish I could say the rest of the conversation was smooth and easy-flowing, but it wasn’t - it was awkward and uncomfortable and nerve-wracking until we settled on a topic very far away from anything to do with ‘us’: video games. 

“Look, I’m telling you,” Dan pauses for emphasis, hand splayed out in front of us both - if there’s anything this morning has taught me, it’s that he is an absolute drama queen down to his core. “Yoshi could _and would_ kick Luigi’s ass in a game of ping pong.” I’m not sure how we got on the subject, but Dan is defending his opinion like his life depends on it. The whole concept of him studying law suddenly makes a lot more sense.

“ _Sure_ ,” I agree with a smirk. It’s much more entertaining to watch him argue with nothing than it is to give him the satisfaction of winning or give him actual points to disagree with. He sputters out a sound of disbelief, gaping at me as I hold the door to our building for him. Again. I don’t get an eye roll this time, though I think it has more to do with his current desire to win the debate that isn’t really a debate.

“What, so you actually think Yoshi would lose to Luigi? Have you _seen_ him in Luigi’s Mansion?” Dan shakes his head at me as we climb the stairs, and we’re both silent for a minute. I’m definitely too unfit to pretend not to be out of breath by the time we reach our floor.

“I’m not saying _anything_ ,” I grin at him, once we’re halfway down the hall and I can speak almost normally again. We stop outside our doors, then, and I’m suddenly wishing we _did_ have a bunch of mandatory activities today. _Any excuse to see Dan for longer._ I might roll my eyes at my own silly puppy love if I weren’t sure Dan would take it the wrong way.

When neither of us moves for a solid minute, I finally force my feet to spin me around and unlock my door so I can bury my face in my pillow and freak out about spending time with Dan and then mope about how I can’t spend time _with_ him. 

I’m just turning the doorknob and pushing inside when Dan pipes up behind me.

“Do you, uh, if you didn’t have any activities you were gonna do, I’m-” he breaks off with a deep breath that I wish I’d turned around in time to see. As it stands, I turned too late, but I’m now watching the way his eyes flick back and forth between mine, and the way his lips part as he decides what to say next. I miss the feeling of kissing them. “I was thinking I’d just go play some Mario Kart or something, do you want to maybe join?” 

I grin at him and nod, then leave my door to drift shut behind me.


	26. A Friendly Wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of Mario Kart gone awry.

Dan’s room doesn’t _look_ any different, of course, but it feels like everything’s been shifted two inches to the left - it’s _off_ , but not in an obvious way. Just enough to be unsettling.

For a moment, I just watch as Dan sets things up, then he’s handing me a controller and I resign myself to the spare bed - surely that’s what he’d prefer, if he’d rather we didn’t touch. This way we can’t even touch on accident.

“ _Phil_ ,” he whines when he turns around. “We _talked_ about this. You can’t sit there, or I’ll never hear the end of it, whether I win or lose. And!” He holds up a finger, “I will _definitely_ be winning.” Then he’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, glaring pointedly at the spot beside him. _If he’s okay with it..._ I try to keep my smile to a normal ‘ _I’m enjoying playing video games with a friend_ ’ level.

When I sit, I make a point to keep my distance, shifting closer to the headboard than I am to him. I glance over, just to be sure he’s okay with it, and I _swear_ for half a second, I catch him pouting. 

But then the moment is gone, and the game is started, and he’s saying we should do 150ccs, which sounds _way_ too fast to me, and I make a point to tell him so.

“ _Too_ fast?” He scoffs, “there’s no such thing. You’re just afraid to lose,” he grins at me, boasting at first, but then it turns into something wicked. I swallow against the lump in my throat - whatever he has planned, I’m not sure I can handle it.

“Whoever wins the tournament gets to ask for one thing, whatever they want,” he’s still got that glint in his eye, like he’s planned this and already knows what he’ll be asking for. I don’t dare get my own hopes up - I’m good, but if our last gaming session was anything to go by, Dan is on a whole other level. 

“Oh, you’re going down,” I tease, knowing full well how empty my words are. But as Dan picks the first track, I can’t help but wonder what he has in mind; I doubt I’d need to _purposely_ throw the game to find out - a point proven by the fact that I’m already in seventh place in the first lap simply because I’m too focused on what Dan wants.

Somehow, that phrase sticks with me throughout the entire first race - _what Dan wants._

\---------------------------

By some entirely unrealistic miracle - and me picking my favorite track as one of the races - we end up perfectly tied for second place. Curse Princess Peach and her two points more than us. 

“So what do we do now?” I ask, since Dan had been the one to come up with the bet to begin with. The obvious solution would be to just have one final race, an all-or-nothing game to decide the winner, but I want it to be Dan’s decision. _What Dan wants._

“Well…” he pauses, staring at the screen. “We both technically won, so we both get one thing we want,” he concludes, and my eyebrows arch up my forehead. _I guess that’s one way to ensure he gets whatever it is he’s after._ I nod, ready to accept this silly winnerless bet, until my brain kindly reminds me that I’ve been pretty convinced _Dan_ would be the winner.

I have no idea what to ask for. 

There’s a moment when I’m _sure_ my eyes bug out of my head before I reign them back in, but Dan seems too focused on his controller to notice. Not that he’s _doing_ anything, aside from stalling, it seems. 

“Alright, you first then,” I decide, hoping to get an idea of what I might want to ask for once I hear his request. He purses his lips, glancing over briefly before staring back at his controller. The room suddenly feels very quiet, so quiet I can hear his breathing. It sounds a bit fast.

It feels like a year passes as I watch him, trying to be patient but getting more anxious by the second. _What could he possibly be asking for that’s got him so nervous?_

“A kiss!” He blurts out finally, then clamps a hand over his mouth. My eyes go wide, and his stretch to match. Then he’s shaking his head, letting his eyes drift shut. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t- that isn’t fair of me to ask, not when I said we should just be friends.” His words sound final, like he’s only a second away from tossing out a different request, but watching the way his lips tug down is the most heartbreaking thing. And I really _really_ want to kiss him.

“It’s okay,” I interrupt just as his mouth opens. “I don’t mind.”

“But-”

“Really, do you think for even a second I’d object to kissing you?” I grin at him. “If you didn’t know, your lips have become one of my all-time favorite things.” His blush is worth every cheesy word.

“Phil, you can’t just _say_ things like that!” He whines, but there’s not much force behind it. So I set my controller aside and turn fully toward him, waiting for his decision. 

Something tells me there was never much fight in him to begin with, as he’s sighing a moment later and turning to mirror my position. 

Despite my heart suddenly hammering in my chest, I try to stay still and take my cues from him - it’s his prize, what _he_ wants, not what I want. _I still need to decide...maybe I should ask for a kiss as well?_

But then he’s leaning forward, slowly, so I match his pace. Everything feels like we’re stood on top of a dam that’s about to burst, and we _know_ but we aren't trying to stop it. Or run away.

Dan closes the gap between us in a single rushed movement, and I have to fight back a smile so I can enjoy the kiss properly. Despite him smashing into me, he’s pulled back a bit so his lips are soft against mine. Warmth hums under my skin; I didn’t realize how much I missed this until I had it back. Now I never want to let go.

Unfortunately, Dan seems to have decided that a brief, chaste kiss is enough to satisfy his end of the bet, as he’s pulling back and I’m trying not to feel too disappointed. _He did say ‘kiss’, not ‘full-on makeout session’_. 

But my body betrays me, and I find my hand up around the back of Dan’s neck a moment later. _Excuse me, I didn’t say you could do that!_ I want to scold it, but it’s already pulling him back to me, his lips back against mine, and I can’t really be all that mad.

Especially when Dan doesn’t try to pull away again.

His lips move against mine, warm and deep and suddenly much needier than they’d been a minute ago. Now I do smile, because _this_ is exactly what I missed. I wind my fingers into his hair, and he shivers under my touch. My other hand finds its way to his side, tracing fingers over his shirt and wishing it were anywhere else but on him.

I startle when a hand finds its way to my cheek, and Dan pulls away abruptly. It’s not til I notice he’s glaring down at his palm that I realize what must be going through his head.

“Dan, it’s not-”

“That was a mistake, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it wasn’t you, I promise, I just-”

“Maybe...you should go now,” Dan’s voice is so soft that I clamp my mouth shut to let him speak, though I immediately wish I hadn’t.

“I can’t go yet,” I argue, and he looks up from where he’s tucked himself into the corner on his bed. I hate that his eyes have begun to water. “I won, too, remember?” I keep my voice low and hopefully gentle. 

“What do you want,” he deadpans, and I twist my lips. _What do I want?_

“Touch me,” I say. He sucks in a breath. _Please understand that nothing about you scares me._ “And freeze me.” 


	27. Cherry-Flavored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I won't even pretend that wasn't a clickbait chapter title. So sue me.

“ _Leave_.” There’s no more softness in his tone, only harsh, grating ice. The worst part is that his voice breaks on the word, so he just sounds defeated.

I open my mouth, about to argue - to _explain_ why I’d asked - but he levels a hard glare at me, tears already overflowing, and I clamp my lips together and nod. Whatever this was, I stepped over a line. _What have I done?_

The sniffle I hear as the door drifts shut behind me is like a knife in my chest.

“You look like shit,” PJ’s voice when I open our door makes me stumble back a step. Then I frown - I guess he’s returned from whatever activity he’d been doing, though I have no idea when. He swivels in his chair to face me fully. “What happened?”

“Uh, right, actually,” I say, for lack of anything else that comes to mind. ‘ _Dan and I made a bet on a video game, he kissed me, and I asked him to use his magic powers on me._ ’ “Dan and I, we didn’t...uh, we kind of had a...” I trail off, then twist my lips. _Was it a fight?_

“Oh,” his eyes widen, and he nods. “Say no more,” he actually holds up a hand, as if I’d obviously been about to continue. “I have…” he digs around in his backpack, hung from the back of his chair at an angle that tells me it should’ve fallen off the second he put it there. “Here!” He produces a plastic bag, full to the brim with small packages of sweets. “Jules and Melissa won, but I kept half the stash for us. And you look like you could use some.” Then the bag is flying at my face, and I barely manage to catch it, saving us from a sugary candy-splosion. 

“Thanks, Peej,” I force a smile to my face; I’ve no idea what event he was hosting where someone won something, but there’s very little that sweets won’t solve, and it was nice of PJ to keep some. With a huff, I drop down on my bed, tearing into the first package that catches my eye - something gummy and coated in sugar crystals. Perfect. The rest of the bag is set aside for later consumption.

I think my eyes glaze over as I munch, but I don’t really notice until PJ’s stood in front of me, waving a hand in my face. I stop mid-chew, the cherry flavor melting on my tongue.

“Hm?” Everything floats into focus, and I swallow the bite.

“I said are you going over there to fix things, or had you just planned on sitting here and eating yourself into a sugar coma?” PJ chuckles, returning to his chair. I blink. _Fix things?_

I glance for a moment at the half-eaten bag of gummies in my hand, then at the door.

“Phil, mate, you’re not being serious right now?” I look over to find his eyebrows arched up his forehead, staring at me like I just said I was abducted by aliens.

“He told me to leave-”

“Trust me, everyone likes sweets,” PJ purses his lips and shakes his head, then returns to his computer. “Go,” he deadpans at his screen, so I stand and make my way to the door on autopilot. It’s not until I’m outside Dan’s room again that I realize I don’t really know what to say. _Would he even open up?_

Voices from the lounge have me blinking in confusion for a moment, until I recall that, shockingly, other people live here. I step closer to Dan’s door, knocking softly.

“Hey Dan, it’s, uh, me...” _this is going well…_ “I know you just told me to leave, but I have...something for you?” I glance down at the half-eaten bag of gummies in my hand. _I really didn’t think about this at all, did I?_ But it’s not like Dan will even open up, he probably never wants to speak-

“What?” My head jerks up at the word, toward the newly-formed crack between the door and frame, and the wide, curious brown eyes peeking out from it. Even though I think it’s only been a few minutes, Dan’s eyes aren’t nearly as red, and all evidence of tears has been dried from his cheeks. The only thing left is a light blush and the echo of a dimple, because his lips have turned down in the slightest frown.

“Oh! Uh,” my eyes dart between his and the sweets, and I twist my lips. _‘Here’s a half-eaten bag of candy…as an apology?’_ It sounds lame even in my head. “I thought you could use some sugar, but then I sort of…” I gesture at the bag, and Dan follows the movement.

“Wow, such a gentleman,” Dan scoffs, rolling his eyes. But there’s a smirk - far closer to a smile than I expected to get - so I just give him a sheepish grin.

Then I offer the bag - I don’t know if it’d be pressing my luck to ask to come in. Again. He’d probably say no anyway. _A peace offering will maybe work better._ So I stick with the sweets.

He stares at them for a moment, then looks back up at me - it would almost be a funny sight if it weren’t a little sad, just his head poking out from the door; it’s like he’s literally using it as a barrier between us. Or maybe between him and everything else in the world. _Not everything is about you, Phil._

When his face disappears from sight, my heart falls in my chest. _Oh. Okay._ I’m about to turn around, a foot already stepping away from the door, when it swings open. Dan’s just stood there, lips pursed and looking at the ground. 

“Do you, uh, want to come in?” I freeze, again wondering if he doesn’t have the ability to do that without touching someone. He must mistake my moment of silence for not being sure - _as if I’d ever actually say no_. “I know, I know, I _just_ kicked you out, you can say no, it’s-”

“I’d like to,” my face breaks into a grin. Which might be a little much, given all he’s done is ask me to come in, but...it feels like _something_. His mouth is still open, mid-word, but it shifts into something sort of mirroring mine; I take it as a good sign and step inside.

It feels a little like walking into a room full of staticky blankets, some kind of tension in the air that I can’t see or put a name to but is definitely clinging to everything. I stop by his bed - well, between his desk and bed; I’m not trying to make any moves on him, it’s just the only place to really stand. By the time I turn around, Dan’s closer, and the door’s nearly shut behind him. Without any warning, he plucks the bag of sweets from my hand and pops a couple in his mouth.

“Cherry? How pedestrian,” he grumbles, but I smirk when he digs around in the bag for a few more. Then he drops down onto his bed with a sigh. “You know,” he says around a mouthful of the gummies, “I used to think of _this_ ,” he glares pointedly at his free hand, “as some kind of inconvenience. I’ll call it a ‘curse’, sure, when I’m feeling dramatic, but nothing unmanageable. Just have to avoid people.” He pauses to chew, then swallow. I watch the red line on his neck pulse with the action. “Hell, sometimes even a _gift_ , when it gave me an excuse to be antisocial without feeling bad.” 

Now his gaze drifts up, locks with mine, and his tongue pokes out as he licks his lips. Both are stained red from the candy.

“But it _is_ a curse. The worst fucking thing I could’ve ever imagined,” he chokes out a harsh laugh, shaking his head; all I can do is frown.

“Why? Why does it have to be a curse?” I hate to see him like this, so ready to tear himself apart over something he can’t help. _It’s not your fault!_

“ _You_ , you spork,” he looks up, eyes wide, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” is all I manage. All I can think. _Me?_ “Did I do something?” My brain tries desperately to catch up to whatever’s going on, whatever he’s implying.

“ _Yeah_ , you just had to _exist_ ,” he laughs, then lets out an exasperated breath as he stands and starts pacing the short distance in front of me. He pops another cherry gummy into his mouth, then runs the same hand through his hair. I wonder if any of the sugar that surely stuck to his fingers got stuck in his curls as well. “ _You_ and your stupid personality and-” he scans me from head to toe, with an intensity that actually makes me blush, “and _that_ , and _of course_ I had to go and fall in lo-”

My eyebrows arch so high up my forehead that I wonder if they’re not trying to break free of my face and escape. Dan freezes mid-pace, eyes wide and lips parted. His head turns slowly toward me, giving me the perfect view of the increasingly deep shade of red coloring his cheeks. 

“I, uh, I didn’t-”

“You do?” 

We, of course, end up finding our voices at exactly the same time, and Dan’s collapsed back on the bed a moment later, sweets discarded to the side of the mattress as he covers his face with his hands.

“It doesn’t _matter_ ,” he grumbles, “because it’s _not safe_.” He ends the sentence with such finality, like ‘ _and now you’re done with me_ ’, or maybe ‘ _and now_ I’m _done with you’_ , but I don’t move. I don’t think I’ve moved since he said...what he said. _Love?_ The word isn’t _scary_ exactly - I’m almost more scared by the fact that it _doesn’t_ feel like the wrong thing to say.

“So we shouldn’t be...us, because you might hurt me,” I say, but it comes out flat and it sounds off and echoey in my ears. _That’s all he’s worried about?_ I mean, I guess I _knew_ it worried him - he’s made it pretty clear - but I thought his reason for breaking things off was about _his_ comfort, not mine. I wasn’t aware it scared him so much he was willing to ignore possibly being in _love_ with me. 

Instead of a response, he just grunts from under his hands. I assume it’s a confirmation.

Before I can stop it, a giggle crawls up my throat and breaks the tension in the air. Dan peeks out from between his fingers, and I can see the crease in his forehead where his brows have scrunched together. 

“What?” He mumbles, but it only serves to make my giggles turn into full-on laughter. “What’s so funny?” Now he’s sat up, looking a bit like a little kid who’s not been given a slice of cake at a party. But I can’t respond - every time I try to stop and form words, they’re replaced with another round of giggles.

So he reaches across the bed and grabs the discarded bag of sweets, digging into it and tossing a couple at my head; I narrowly avoid a sugary disaster, ducking and practically falling onto the bed beside him. Which shuts me up very quickly, because the moment I look up, his eyes - and _very_ scrunched eyebrows - are only a foot away.

“I’m-” I suck in a breath, trying to calm myself enough to speak properly. His expression softens, though his dimple is still on display, etched by the frown that hasn’t left. “I’m sorry,” I try, pushing down the urge to break into another fit of giggles. “But, I mean, you don’t need special powers to hurt me?” My eyes widen, but his just squint. The frown deepens.

“But I-”

“No, you could literally pull a knife on me any time and I would be just as defenseless,” I interrupt before he can get to his ‘ _it’s not the same_ ’ argument-

“That’s not the _same_ , obviously,” he says anyway, rolling his eyes. 

“It is,” I lean forward til I’m staring in his eyes, and reach a hand up to cup his cheek. “In any case, I trust you not to hurt me.” For a moment, his eyes close, and he exhales a warm breath that tickles my wrist.

“You’re an idiot,” he announces, finally, and one of the wayward giggles I’d been holding in escapes. Then Dan’s smiling, though his lips are pursed and it looks like he’s trying very hard not to. I watch the dimple carve a deeper indent into his cheek, and poke it without thinking.

“Maybe,” I agree, “but I’m _your_ idiot, if you’ll have me.” His laugh is answer enough, though he rolls his eyes.

I tug him to me, gently, and press my lips to his. He tastes like cherry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, my dears!!!
> 
> Edit: for anyone asking if 'that's it' - yes, it is, but I won't say I'll _never_ add an epilogue or something to this. I just don't want to make any promises!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! If you'd like, feel free to give it a cheeky [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/173826460202/slow-closing-doors-completed)


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